


Love Is A Long Road

by verhalen



Series: Learning To Fly [8]
Category: Flameborn (Multiverse), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BDSM Party, Breaking Up & Making Up, Cats, Daddy Kink, Disabled Character, Double Penetration, Dreams and Nightmares, Elves Reborn As Mortal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Featherplay, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gay Sex, Grief/Mourning, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Magical Realism, May/December Relationship, Modern Era, Moving In Together, Multi, Older Man/Younger Man, Parent Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Reincarnation, Relationship Issues, Requited Love, Riding Crops, Shibari, Silmarils, Spanking, Spitroasting, Suspension Bondage, Threesome - M/M/M, Urban Fantasy, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: There is trouble in paradise between Nicholas and Sören, and Anthony intervenes. When they thank him for his help, things get very interesting.The sequel toBroken Wings.
Relationships: Anthony Hewlett-Johnson (OMC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC)/Craig Fetherstonhaugh (OMC), Finarfin/Orodreth, Fëanor/Fingolfin/Finarfin, Fëanor/Orodreth, Geir Strøm (OMC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC)/Anthony Hewlett-Johnson (OMC), Nicholas Decaux (OMC)/Sören Sigurðsson (OMC)/Anthony Hewlett-Johnson (OMC)
Series: Learning To Fly [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539544
Kudos: 20





	1. Turn To Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Sören Sigurðsson and Anthony Hewlett-Johnson are my OMCs. Please refer to my [Transformative Works Statement](https://verhalen.dreamwidth.org/263827.html) for more information if you need it.
> 
> Nicholas Decaux is an OMC inspired by Dooku from Star Wars. I began shipping Dooku with an OC named Sev in 2016 in a (now-archive-locked) fic called [_Stuck in the Middle With You_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786491), and in 2018 wrote a modern Earth AU called [_Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787306) where Sev became a human named Sören, and Dooku evolved beyond his canonical self. He looks and sounds very similar and there are similar personality traits if you squint (such as his elegance and being formal and polite to a fault), but he is also decidedly non-villainous in my multiverse and I feel it is more fair at this point to call him an OC.
> 
>   
> ~ ~ ~
> 
>   
>  (banner by me)

**December 2016**   
  


"It belongs in a museum."  
  
Sören pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. _Here we fucking go again._ Sören gently but firmly closed the genuine Fabergé egg, careful not to slam it.  
  
It was not the egg Nicholas was talking about - the Fabergé egg had been a gift from Anthony's late grandmother Anthea, which Sören kept on a shelf in the bedroom - but what was inside it. Sören had taken Anthony on a trip to Iceland back in August, and as the trip was winding to a close they visited Reynisfjara and Sören found a white stone on the beach. Not any white stone, but more brilliant than a diamond - glowing like a lamp. It would have been remarkable on its own, but it was a stone Sören had dreamed of - more particularly, he'd dreamed of creating it, one of a set of three - and finding it in reality was disturbing, as it implied Sören's other dreams were not simply dreams. But disturbing or not, the stone felt like _his_. Sören hadn't told Nicholas about the dream, knowing how completely daft it sounded, but he felt that even without the dream legitimizing a claim, he still found it, and therefore it belonged to him.  
  
Nicholas, being a Classics professor, felt otherwise, and at least once every couple of weeks since Sören came back with the stone - putting it in the egg for safekeeping - Nicholas had gotten on his case to turn the stone in to a museum. Sören had finally, last month, asked him to stop nagging him, and for the last few weeks Nicholas had let it go and Sören thought that was the end of it and Nicholas was done pushing about it.  
  
But now... it was two days before Christmas, and five days before Nicholas's sixty-eighth birthday, and Sören _really_ didn't want tension with his nesting partner.  
  
He knew that all couples had conflicts from time to time, and he and Nicholas had been very lucky thus far to make it almost two years without any major trouble, more remarkable considering their differences. Nicholas wasn't just Sören's senior by thirty-six years, but Nicholas came from money and Sören came from poverty, Nicholas had refined tastes and Sören's tastes outside of art were more basic, Nicholas was reserved and serious - though he could be quite warm privately, and sometimes even playful - and Sören was a jokester and could be hot-tempered. Sören was also polyamorous - Nicholas was his primary partner but not his only partner - and Sören had an extensive sexual history, while Sören had been Nicholas's only partner, period. They certainly had enough common ground to keep a relationship going, both intellectuals, and their personality differences balanced each other out - Sören helped Nicholas lighten up, and Nicholas was the strong father figure Sören needed, not just his lover. And Nicholas wasn't just physically active, but he had a strong libido and Sören had no complaints about their sex life.  
  
Something like this, though, seemed to magnify their differences, the ways they were worlds apart, and Sören feared that the tension was going to unravel the relationship altogether. It wasn't an unfounded fear - Sören's partner Anthony had been an ex-partner for some time; when Sören and Anthony had lived together in Kingston, it had been the little things that eventually piled up and caused the breakdown of their relationship. Even though Sören and Anthony had finally gotten back together this past summer, Sören didn't want to go through that with Nicholas. One bad breakup was enough.  
  
Sören turned around to see Nicholas standing in the bedroom doorway. Sören tried to keep his body language neutral and his tone calm, though he was _very_ annoyed - not just with Nicholas's insistence that _his stone_ belonged in a museum, but with Nicholas bringing it up _again_ after he was asked not to. "Could we not?" Sören asked.  
  
Nicholas scowled. Sören usually found Nicholas's grumpy face endearing and sexy, but now it just intensified the tension in the room. "I don't like sounding like a broken record, but I am _very_ uncomfortable with that stone in our flat. It belongs to science, and historical research -"  
  
"It belongs to me. I found it." Sören shrugged. "A museum can have it after I die."  
  
Nicholas facepalmed. He turned away, but then he looked over his shoulder, glaring at Sören. Sören glared back. "You don't know what that stone is made of. The way it shines suggests it produces a lot of energy... perhaps scientists could study it and create green energy or other important technological advances. As you know, climate change is affecting your own home country of Iceland -"  
  
"No shit, Sherlock, I think I know about how the glaciers are melting back home." Sören realized then that he'd called Iceland "back home" - he had UK citizenship now, had come here in 2010 to work for the NHS, and still did even though he no longer needed them to sponsor a visa. Those two words spoke volumes, hinting that maybe Sören wasn't feeling at home when Nicholas was being like this.  
  
"I don't understand why you want to keep it. It seems selfish -"  
  
Sören's nostrils flared, and his fists clenched though he was trying to remain outwardly calm. He couldn't believe Nicholas had just called him selfish. "If you're going to go there, then I don't understand why you want to keep all of the thousands of books you own, you could sell them and donate the money to charity and help starving children. I don't understand why you want to keep all of the antiques you own, you could sell them - some of them are probably pretty fucking valuable - and you could donate the money to cancer research, or something. You know what I'm saying? I'll be the first to criticize rich people for excess - look at all the fucking doctors in the United States who want three homes and a yacht while people die without medical treatment because it's not free over there - but goddamn it, I found this during a personally meaningful trip, it has sentimental value, it's pretty... Let me have nice things, for fuck's sake."  
  
Nicholas sighed. "It's getting late. I'm tired. I shan't argue with you about it anymore tonight. Let's... just get ready to go to bed."  
  
Sören grasped at sorely needed levity. "Hi Tired I Shan't Argue With You About It Anymore Tonight -"  
  
" _Sören._ " But Nicholas's lips quirked, and when he shook his head he had a fond little smile.  
  
They did their nightly tai chi routine, changed into pajamas, brushed their teeth, and climbed into bed together. Sören was still tense and, he knew, quite a bit angry, but when Tobias hopped on the bed for pettings and Nicholas doted on the cat, Sören's heart melted a little and he found himself rolling towards Nicholas. Nicholas pulled him close and for a few minutes they just snuggled together, petting the cat, in silence except for Tobias's deep, rumbly purr. Sören relaxed a bit against the shield wall of Nicholas's body, and couldn't help rubbing his nose in the exposed silver chest hair. Nicholas kept one hand on the cat, continuing to stroke Tobias, and with his other hand he gently rubbed Sören's head.  
  
"I love you, you know," Nicholas said softly.  
  
Sören looked up. Nicholas kissed the tip of his nose. "I love you too," Sören said. "I wish you would stop nagging me about the stone."  
  
"I feel it is my duty as an historian to... well, preserve history."  
  
"That's all fine and good... but what about your duty as my partner?" Sören frowned. "What about my happiness and well-being?"  
  
Nicholas frowned too, but then he kissed Sören's brow and tousled Sören's curls. "I'm sorry," Nicholas said. "I don't want to fight with you."  
  
Sören skritched Nicholas's beard. "Please, just let it go. OK? I don't like fighting with you either."  
  
Nicholas hugged him tight. Sören's tension continued to drain away as Nicholas rubbed his head, rubbed his back, and Tobias kneaded them, purring even louder. Sören closed his eyes and hoped that was the end of it; when he and Nicholas cuddled like this, Sören could believe everything would be OK, somehow.


	2. Picking Up The Pieces

It was Christmas Day, and Anthony was stopping over Sören and Nicholas's flat on the way to have Christmas dinner with his parents. Sören and Nicholas had been invited to Christmas dinner, but had declined, as Sören's submissive Craig's parents were on holiday and Sören didn't want Craig to be alone on Christmas, and even though Anthony wouldn't have minded if Craig came along, Craig was skittish.  
  
Anthony would be spending more time at Sören and Nicholas's tomorrow, his visit today was necessarily brief; his mum would be picking him up there and she was always punctual if not a bit early, a practice he'd inherited from her. But however brief the visit, he still wanted to see them, and ensure they got their Christmas gifts. He'd gotten Nicholas, the chess player and Classics professor, a handsome ludus latrunculorum set made of rosewood. For Sören, who was casually learning French, and was a big kid at heart, he'd gotten a set of Muzzy DVDs, and so the Yule Cat wouldn't eat him, he'd found a T-shirt that was a parody of the Adidas logo, that had a pineapple and said Ananas.  
  
Anthony would have spoiled Sören if he could, but Sören was a man of simple tastes and didn't feel comfortable with people being extravagant where he was concerned. Nonetheless, Anthony had something else to give Sören - or more accurately, regift - that he was hoping would be well-received. He was a bit nervous about it.  
  
Anthony lived with his friend-with-benefits, Geir - a friend-with-benefits that Sören also occasionally shared - a few buildings down from Sören and Nicholas, on the same street in Covent Garden. Anthony had once lived in an upscale riverfront flat in Kingston-upon-Thames, and after his car accident in March 2015, he'd moved back in with his parents while he was recuperating, and then he stayed with Sören and Nicholas for awhile. He didn't mind living with Geir, though it was almost like living alone with how frequently Geir was gone, between his orchestra practice and his intense dedication to fitness; Geir was at a Christmas party today for the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House.  
  
But he did miss living with Sören and Nicholas. It had felt right living with them. Too right.  
  
Anthony and Sören had been back together since this past June, after breaking up in October 2013. Anthony had feelings for Nicholas as well, but even though Sören was poly and had said he didn't mind sharing, Anthony hadn't pursued his attraction to Nicholas for a few reasons, namely that he didn't know if Nicholas felt the same way and he didn't want to make things awkward if Nicholas wasn't interested, and if Nicholas happened to be interested Anthony also wanted to make sure things were good and solid with Sören before bringing Sören's nesting partner into it, because he didn't want to destabilize Sören and Nicholas's relationship by being involved with both of them if things went south with Sören again. After much consideration and waiting, Anthony had another gift for them, which pertained to his feelings for them both, but he was going to wait until tomorrow.  
  
In the meantime, he did a once-over in the bathroom mirror. He was wearing a navy blue cashmere sweater and dark blue jeans; he walked with a cane after his accident, and Sören had given him a cane tipped with a silver shark, after his epithet in London's legal community. While he usually wore contact lenses for the sake of vanity, today he went without and had on his wire-rimmed glasses. He kept his black hair short, and his face had been freshly shaved with a straight razor last night. He decided to put on a little cologne, even though he wasn't going to be at Sören's place very long, and after splashing it on he decided he was ready. His cats, Seumas, a grey tabby and Miss Balls, a chocolate tabby, were waiting - Seumas on top of the couch, Miss Balls on the arm - and meowed at him in protest of his leaving as he put on his greatcoat. He chuckled as he gave them pettings. "I'll be back later," he said, as if they understood him. "There's food in your dish. You won't starve."  
  
Miss Balls grabbed his arm with a little whine. Anthony chucked her chin, rubbed her whisker pads, and she gave him a tiny nibble before she let go of his arm. He skritched her behind the ears, rubbed the ruff of her neck, and then he was off, cane in one hand, canvas tote bag of presents in the other.  
  
It was snowing in the blue dusk, lit golden by streetlamps. The sidewalk was dusted with a thin coating of snow; Anthony's boots crunched as he hobbled down the street. As he approached the right building, he looked up and saw Sören watching from the window. Sören waved, and Anthony grinned, raising the gloved hand bearing the bag of gifts. Even from a distance, Sören's smile lit up Anthony's whole world and he found himself moving just a little faster, feeling giddy.  
  
Once he arrived on their floor, he saw the door was already open. Sören met him at the door and pulled him into a kiss. "Hey, _elskan_ ," Sören said, giving him a squeeze.  
  
Sören had been in his life since 2011 and still made him feel like a stupid, horny teenager. Anthony's cheeks burned as he took off his coat, drinking in that beautiful smile. "Hi. Happy Christmas."  
  
" _Gleðileg jól._ "  
  
Anthony bit his lower lip - he never got tired of hearing Sören speak Icelandic. Though he'd been living in London since 2010 and his accent was milder than it used to be, Sören's accent when he spoke English was still delightful, breathy, rolled r's. Sören looked Anthony up and down as Sören hung up Anthony's coat and Anthony removed his gloves. "You look nice," Sören said. He came closer and whispered, "You look so sexy in your glasses."  
  
Anthony smiled, his face burning hotter. "You look good too." Sören was six feet tall, of a slim build, and wearing black cargo trousers with a traditional Icelandic wool sweater, white with a pattern of black and grey knotwork. Sören's long, curly black hair hung loose a few inches past his shoulders. A short black beard framed full, pouty lips, and Anthony got lost in those long-lashed, expressive brown eyes, the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Sören was more pretty than handsome, sultry in a brooding way most of the time, but when he smiled, it was dazzling. Sören was smiling that smile again and Anthony couldn't help but kiss him back.  
  
Nicholas cleared his throat. He was working on Christmas dinner over in the open plan kitchen area, making what appeared to be sausage stuffing. Anthony waved. "Hi," he said, not wanting to be rude.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Anthony. I hope the walk over here wasn't too unpleasant?"  
  
Nicholas Decaux had one of the sexiest voices Anthony had ever heard - deep, velvet, soft-spoken, a smooth RP accent. He was just sexy in general, silver-haired and bearded, thick eyebrows, a patrician nose, high cheekbones, heavy-lidded intense dark eyes, handsome in a severe way. He also commanded the room with his presence, six-five with a trim but powerful build, that moved gracefully, regally; Anthony knew Nicholas kept in shape through regular walking and practicing tai chi. No doubt, Nicholas also got a regular workout from Sören. Looking at Nicholas's body in his black sweater and trousers, Anthony's mind went in the gutter, thinking about Nicholas and Sören in bed, remembering when he used to live here and heard them across the hall. _Stop that._ It was getting bad, thinking about them together more and more, wondering what it would be like to join them. _You haven't even been here five minutes yet and here you are perving on him again._  
  
Anthony swallowed hard, forcing himself to respond to what Nicholas said and not offer what he was saving for tomorrow. "No, not at all. It's just snowing a little - enough for it to be peaceful, not enough to be dangerous. Hopefully it will remain that way when Mum arrives, so we don't have to drive in muck."  
  
"Would you care for anything to eat or drink? There are hors d'oeuvres and coffee, tea..."  
  
"Egg nog," Sören cut in. "I was going to get myself some egg nog, wouldn't be any trouble to pour you one, too."  
  
"All right, egg nog sounds good." Anthony sat on the couch. Nicholas and Sören's tuxedo cat, Tobias, came right over to sniff him, then hopped up on the seat next to him for pettings. Sören came over with two glasses of egg nog and Tobias climbed onto Anthony as Sören sat down beside him. The egg nog was cold and just the right combination of sweet and spicy. "Thank you," Anthony said after he took a sip.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
Craig hadn't arrived yet, it seemed - Anthony reached for the tote bag on the coffee table and pulled out a present he'd brought for Craig. It wasn't much, a sweater for Craig's dog Kylie, but he knew how much Craig loved his dog and hoped it would be welcome with walking her in the colder months. "Make sure Craig gets this," Anthony said.  
  
Sören nodded and put it under the tree, which was standing next to the staircase. It was a fake tree - Sören had objections to getting a real one, saying it was too sad when they died - and was decorated tastefully with warm white lights, red and gold balls, and crystal stars and icicles. Sören had gotten figurines of the Jólasveinar, which were sitting in a ring around the Christmas tree as if to guard it, and in the center were figurines of Grýla and Leppalúði and their cat, the Jólakötturinn. Sören came back with two presents, which he deposited on the coffee table in front of Anthony. "I think these are for you," Sören said, sitting back down.  
  
"You think."  
  
Sören smirked.  
  
Nicholas stopped what he was doing and joined them in the living room, taking the armchair. Tobias climbed over to Nicholas, and Nicholas fussed over him, petting and talking sweetly, as Anthony debated whether to open the gift from Nicholas or the gift from Sören first.  
  
He decided to open Nicholas's gift first, which was carefully wrapped in sapphire blue holographic foil paper, with a silver curly ribbon. He in turn tried to be careful with the unwrapping, since Nicholas had done such a nice job, until Sören cried, "Oh will you just bloody _open it_." Sören's exuberance made Anthony laugh and he tore into it - Nicholas rolled his eyes but gave a small smile.  
  
Nicholas's gift to him was a hardbound edition of _Always Coming Home_ by Ursula K. Le Guin - autographed. Anthony's eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw the autograph on the front page.  
  
"That must have cost you a bloody fortune," Anthony said, incredulous.  
  
Nicholas waved a hand dismissively. "Someone tells me that Le Guin is your favorite author and that is the one book of hers you do not own. I chanced upon a listing on eBay."  
  
"Nick used the Internet," Sören said, giving him an indulgent smile.  
  
"I admit, sometimes it has its uses."  
  
Anthony snorted - it was 2016, not 1996 - but Nicholas being old-fashioned in some regards was endearing. Anthony picked up Sören's gift next, which was wrapped in red-and-green plaid paper, with a gold foil bow. As soon as he removed the bow, Tobias came right over and carried it off in his mouth. Anthony raised his eyebrows at the tag on the package - Sören had addressed it _To Cornelius_ , Anthony's given name; Anthony was his middle name. Sören gave him an innocent smile that wasn't innocent at all.  
  
Sören had gotten him a traditional Icelandic wool sweater - a pattern of light blue, grey, and beige. Anthony ran his fingers over it, enjoying the texture. It was meaningful, considering they had visited Iceland together in August and that trip had been very special. Anthony wondered if Sören knew just _how_ special - if Sören had dreamt of the stone he'd found; Anthony certainly had.  
  
"Now the Yule Cat won't eat you," Sören said, "but I still might." He leered.  
  
Nicholas snorted into his tea. Anthony glanced over, feeling a bit flustered at how brazen Sören was, and Nicholas was slightly pink. Anthony wondered if Nicholas thought about him and Sören having sex the same way Anthony thought about Nicholas and Sören together. He quickly glanced away, face on fire.  
  
"It's lovely, Sören, thank you." Anthony continued to stroke the sweater's fabric, and admire the pattern.  
  
Sören kissed his cheek.  
  
Anthony took Sören and Nicholas's presents out of the tote bag. Nicholas was delighted with his ludus latrunculorum set. "Do you play?" he asked.  
  
"I don't," Anthony said. "I do know about it from my history lessons in school, a long time ago. It's amazing what we remember."  
  
"I can teach you if you'd like to learn, and play sometime," Nicholas said.  
  
"I'd like that." Anthony didn't just like that in and of itself - he enjoyed strategy games; he was a barrister after all - but it was a chance to spend time with Nicholas. Anthony's heart skipped a beat.  
  
Sören gigglesnorted at the Ananas T-shirt. Pineapples had been a running joke with Sören and Anthony for awhile now - Anthony had gotten Sören a golden aluminum pineapple ice bucket as a gag gift that Sören was displaying on the coffee table to hold mints or other candies, and had glued googly eyes to the pineapple. Sören opened up the pineapple container now and took out clear-wrapped peppermint swirls, giving one to Anthony. Anthony tucked it into his pocket for later.  
  
"I have something else for you," Anthony told Sören, "but... not to be rude..." He glanced over at Nicholas, then back at Sören. "It's a bit personal, if we could go upstairs for a few minutes..."  
  
"Oh myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy," Sören said.  
  
Of course Sören would think it was a blowjob or a quickie - Anthony normally would be fine with that, but with his mum on the way he didn't want to be in the middle of giving Sören head and have his mother call to let him know she was here. Anthony gave Sören a playful swat as he leaned on his cane to get up from the couch. "Not that," he said. "Not yet, anyway." _Tomorrow, if all goes well._ Tomorrow, he was going to offer himself to both of them. If Nicholas rejected him, well... he hoped their friendship could rebound from that. But he had waited long enough, he needed to get some sanity back.  
  
Though Anthony had worked on stairs during his grueling months of physical therapy, and he had to use a staircase to get in and out of his bedroom in the flat he shared with Geir, he still didn't like stairs much, and went up slowly, feeling winded at the top step. Sören put an arm around him both to steady and reassure him, and when Anthony had caught his breath they walked down the hall to the guest bedroom, which had once been Anthony's room when he stayed with them. Anthony felt a twinge of nostalgia as they walked in.  
  
Sören sat on the edge of the bed, and Anthony next to him. "So, what's this you want to give me in private?" Sören raised his eyebrow and smirked. "A pineapple dildo?"  
  
Anthony facepalmed, doubling over with laughter. "Jesus, Sören."  
  
"Not a pineapple dildo?"  
  
"No, Sören, it's not a pineapple dildo." Anthony laughed harder, wheezing, realizing what he'd just said. "Filed under: conversations I only have with you."  
  
Sören grinned, eyes full of mischief. "Is it a pineapple buttplug, then?"  
  
Anthony had to lean on Sören, his eyes tearing up. He tried to form the sentence "it's not a pineapple buttplug" and he was laughing too hard.  
  
Sören waited for him to calm down, looking pleased with himself, and when Anthony composed himself a little, he cleared his throat and reached into his pocket, past the peppermint candy he was saving for later. He pulled out a small black velvet box - the same box the item had originally come in. Sören's eyes misted when Anthony opened it and he saw what was inside.  
  
On Christmas Eve in 2012, Anthony had proposed to Sören with a platinum band, with tiny white diamonds going all the way around in an "eternity" setting; Anthony had carefully researched NHS guidelines for rings, which was part of why he decided on that design rather than a solitaire, which would have been against regulation. He also thought the infinite setting was more appropriate for how he felt about Sören - and he still felt that way four years later. Sören Sigurðsson was the great love of his life. He hadn't been able to get over Sören during their time apart, it had been like missing a piece of his soul.  
  
When Sören walked out on him in October 2013, he'd left the ring behind, throwing it. Anthony had bought the ring in Switzerland, so it wasn't a simple matter to return the ring to the shop where he'd bought it, and even if it had... he didn't feel right about returning it, selling it, throwing it away or giving it away. So he'd held onto the ring for the last three years, and when he and Sören began to rebuild trust in the summer of 2015, Anthony waited for the right time to give the ring back to him. He'd almost done it on their trip to Iceland, but it was still too soon after they'd gotten back together and Anthony wanted to make sure they were on very sure footing, otherwise giving Sören the ring again might be a faux pas. He was still a little worried about how the ring might be received, but he wanted to take a chance.  
  
"It's a standing offer," Anthony explained. "I know that while Nicholas is still alive, you probably wouldn't be comfortable with it and... that's OK. But...." Anthony's voice trailed off. He hoped Nicholas would be around for a good long time - Nicholas was just shy of his sixty-eighth birthday, and in good health. He didn't want to think about Nicholas dying. But he also knew that in ten, twenty, thirty years he would still feel the same about Sören, that Sören would still be his primary partner, the one he wanted to nest with. Anthony swallowed hard. "Later on, if... you know. If you want to, I'm willing. And it's OK if you never want to." Anthony knew Sören might still be sour on the idea of marriage, considering they were weeks away from getting married when the big blowout happened. "I still thought you should have the ring. I didn't have the heart to get rid of it -"  
  
Sören grabbed Anthony's face and kissed him breathless, silencing any doubt Anthony might have had about the appropriateness of the gift. As their tongues played together, Anthony's cock stirred in his jeans and he internally cursed having to go anywhere tonight, wishing he could just stay for Christmas dinner and ask to be Christmas dessert. He kissed Sören back with all of his passion, wanting Sören to feel how much he was loved, wanted, _cherished_.  
  
When they pulled apart, catching their breath, Sören's eyes were too bright as he looked at the ring, and then into Anthony's eyes. Sören quietly took the ring from Anthony, got up, and walked out of the room. Anthony wanted to ask what he was doing - he watched Sören walk across the hall to his bedroom, and heard Sören rummage around in a dresser drawer. When Sören came back, he had a sterling silver chain. He put the ring on a chain and put it around his neck, then sat back down. Anthony was surprised by that - he hadn't expected Sören to put the ring on his finger, considering he was still nesting with Nicholas, but he wasn't expecting this, either. It was, however, a pleasant surprise.  
  
"It's not a yes," Sören said, "but it's not a no, either. It's a... wait and see. Nick, hopefully, will be around for a good long time yet -"  
  
"Of course," Anthony said. "I'm fond of him myself." _If only you knew._  
  
Sören's lips quirked slightly and Anthony wondered if Sören did, in fact, know, but Sören didn't remark on that directly. "And yes, it would be... a bit gauche to have told him that I'm not doing the marriage thing, and then accept your proposal."  
  
"But it's not a no."  
  
"It's not a no," Sören said. He grabbed the chain and lifted the ring to his lips, giving it a kiss. "It means a lot that you... you kept this."  
  
"I missed you so much." Now Anthony's own eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry I hurt you -"  
  
"Shhhh." Sören put a finger to his lips. "I know." Sören gave him another kiss, this one more chaste, but tender. "We're here now."  
  
"We are." Anthony put his arms around Sören, pressed his forehead against Sören's, and rubbed noses. "And I will never let you go."  
  
Sören kissed the tip of his nose. "I won't let you go, either." He touched Anthony's cheek, his eyes suddenly fierce. "I'm yours. And you're mine."  
  
Anthony's heart ached. He needed to laugh before he broke down crying, not wanting to be teary when his mum arrived. "I love you, IKEA."  
  
Sören smiled at the old pet name. "I love you too, Corn."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Anthony and Geir both went over to Sören and Nicholas's for Boxing Day. Nicholas had plenty of leftovers from Christmas dinner - he had made duck, sausage stuffing, haricots verts with hazelnuts, and potatoes au gratin. Elaine had sent Anthony home with containers of leftover goose, roast beef, trifle and plum pudding, which Anthony brought with him. Geir had a belated Christmas gift for Sören and Nicholas - a bottle of Gammel Opland akvavit from his native Norway. Nicholas insisted on opening the akvavit right away, and he, Sören, and Geir each had a shot. Anthony abstained since he was on an antidepressant and he knew from past experience even one shot of that was too strong for him.  
  
After the meal, Sören wanted to watch _Frozen_ , and though Nicholas rolled his eyes and tsked, he still indulged Sören. Nicholas ended up having a second shot of akvavit to get through the movie, and Sören followed suit. Anthony hoped they wouldn't have more than that, as he didn't want to proposition them for a threesome if they were too drunk to consent.  
  
Geir glanced at Anthony, watching them have a second shot, and raised an eyebrow. Geir knew Anthony was planning on having "the talk" with them about his attraction to Nicholas - Geir had encouraged him to do it and get it over with, and Geir was going to claim he needed to call it a night early for practice tomorrow, to give Anthony an excuse to hang back by himself.  
  
"You know what?" Sören asked when the movie was over. "I'm in the mood to build a snowman." He started tugging on Nicholas's sleeve, singing, " _Do you want to build a snowman?_ "  
  
" _Mon Dieu._ " Nicholas chuckled.  
  
They went up to the rooftop garden, where there was more snow to work with than on the sidewalk. Anthony had to sit in one of the chairs to help build the snowman, and the wrought iron was cold, making him glad he had a greatcoat to cover his rear end. Sören in usual form made a crude phallus of snow, and when it fell off the bottom, Sören put it on the snowman's head instead. "There, he's, ah, a unicorn," Sören said.  
  
"You are completely ridiculous," Anthony said, tweaking Sören's nose. _And that is why I love you._  
  
"Indeed." Nicholas kissed Sören's cheek.  
  
After the snowman they went inside for hot chocolate, and Nicholas offered to put on another movie. "One that Sören isn't picking out this time," Nicholas said, giving Sören a mock stern look.  
  
Sören blew a raspberry. "You act like I make bad decisions."  
  
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "In some areas," he said softly.  
  
Sören got very quiet, and stayed that way through the first half of the winter-themed movie Nicholas, Anthony and Geir agreed upon, _March of the Penguins_. Sören didn't even squee at the penguins or make off-color commentary, which was unlike him, and Anthony got the sense Nicholas had hit a nerve with his "in some areas" comment. That tension was magnified when Geir got up to visit the bathroom - Anthony had a feeling Geir was going to leave when he came back from the bathroom, Nicholas paused the movie, and he was suddenly feeling awkward about being left alone with them, like he had walked into a war zone. The silence was thick and oppressive, and Nicholas and Sören were looking at anywhere in the living room but at each other.  
  
Anthony felt like it was somehow up to him to break the ice - and it did feel very much like ice in those moments. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and asked Sören, "So... did you get everything you want for Christmas?" He knew Sören didn't usually have a list of specific things he wanted, being a bit weird about people gifting him, but if there was something Sören secretly was hoping for, he wanted to be able to get it for him.  
  
"More or less," Sören said.  
  
Anthony turned to Nicholas. "What about you?"  
  
"Oh... for the most part, yes." Nicholas's nostrils flared, and he gave Sören a disapproving look. "What really would have made me happy is if Sören would turn that bloody stone into a museum -"  
  
"OK, that's it." Sören slammed his cocoa mug down on the coffee table and got up. "You know, I asked you to fucking _drop it._ "  
  
Nicholas put his own mug down more gingerly and leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands. "You did. But as you know, I am a Classicist. My profession is dependent upon the preservation of rare and precious artifacts, the study of which informs me that it is necessary to curate modern-day objects for future generations. I can't, in good conscience, sit here and allow you to own something like _that stone_ , remarkable as it is, and not have it at least taken in temporarily by a professional to see if there are properties that should be shared with the world. And it is not simply that I can't, but I _shan't._ By not turning that stone over to a museum or the scientific research branch of a university, and asking me to just go along with it, you are asking me to violate principles I have held almost my entire life."  
  
Sören glared. "Yes, your high-and-mighty _ideals_. You're making it sound like I'm doing something on par with killing children and harvesting their organs, for fuck's sake. And you know what? I'm a doctor. _My_ profession depends on science. There are elements on the periodic table that every day, save people's lives. Oxygen. The helium used for an MRI machine. I could go on and on, but I won't. All I'll say is this: the stone is unique, but it probably isn't a new element, or anything that would be worth giving it up to be studied and never see it again. Meanwhile, it _does_ have value - _to me._ I found it during a trip of personal significance. It has sentimental value. Does that not count for anything?"  
  
Anthony once again wondered if, like him, Sören had dreamt of the stone before he found it - considering they had shared dreams that felt like memories of a time before, another place, another world... other bodies, elf-like. Sören hadn't spoken of it, and Anthony was hesitant to discuss that he'd dreamt of the stone himself before its discovery, knowing how mad it sounded, as well as what it implied, that their dreams might well be something real. He was half-expecting Sören to bring up the dreams if he'd had them, but then he realized Sören was unlikely to talk about that here and now when things with Nicholas were already so fraught, never mind admitting to something that would make him sound insane.  
  
"Let me answer your question with a question." Nicholas pointed, then steepled his hands again. "You brought that stone into my home and kept it here all these months, even after I told you I was uncomfortable with it. You having that in _my_ home, with me not knowing what it is - if it is potentially dangerous, radioactive or carcinogenic in some way - affects me. Even something like you taking it out to look at it, and it being seen through the window by the wrong person, making us a target for robbery... that affects me. You speak of your feelings with the sentimental value of the stone. Do my feelings not count? Does my sense of comfort and safety not count? Do I not get a say about what is and is not allowed in my home?"  
  
Geir came back from the bathroom just in time to hear Nicholas's speech. His eyebrows shot up and he gave Anthony a look of alarm. Anthony's heart sank in his chest - tonight was absolutely the wrong time to try to confess his feelings to Nicholas. He wondered if Sören and Nicholas would even have a relationship after tonight. Anthony felt very awkward about staying for the rest of the argument, like being at the site of a trainwreck as it was still happening. Geir came over to help Anthony from the couch, even though Anthony was capable of leaning on his cane to rise - it was a show of solidarity, mutual action in what was about to happen next. "I think we're gonna head home," Geir said.  
  
"Wait." Sören raised his hand. "Wait right there."  
  
Sören marched upstairs, and Anthony wondered what was going on. Nicholas remained seated, stony-faced. Anthony heard Sören swearing in Icelandic, the sound of drawers and wardrobes opening and closing, Sören's feet stomping around. Anthony sat on the arm of the couch, leaning on his cane, having a bad feeling about what he was hearing.  
  
Sören came downstairs about ten minutes later, wheeling a suitcase. Nicholas's expression stopped being neutral - he looked at Sören with what appeared to be a mixture of shock and concern.  
  
Anthony, of course, knew what that suitcase meant. Sören had left him in October 2013 - that fateful day was forever burned into his memory. It broke his heart to see Sören walking out on Nicholas like this, they had been so _good_ together, good to each other, good for each other. It wasn't simply that Anthony had feelings for Nicholas and Sören both, but seeing the way Nicholas loved Sören and took care of him, he thought Sören _needed_ that, and watching them get to this point was so painful it made Anthony tear up. It didn't help that he felt put in the middle, not just because he loved both of them, but he thought they both had valid arguments. That was the curse of being a barrister; he could see both sides of the issue. And while that was usually an asset in his legal career, as understanding the opposing side helped him to argue his own side more effectively, right now in this situation he hated it, as it made him feel like he was being torn apart.  
  
Nicholas blinked. "Sören, I -"  
  
" _Shut up._ " Sören shook his head, giving Nicholas a look of utter contempt. The last time Anthony had seen Sören looking at anyone like that was when Anthony's ex-friend Steve had bullied him in public, taking his cane away. That was a very bad sign. "You want to talk about _your_ home, like I don't live here. I guess you think this isn't my place too and I'm just some sort of chattel, a warm body to fuck -"  
  
"Sören, no -"  
  
"I. Said. _Shut. **Up.**_ " Sören's face was murderous now. Anthony wondered if Sören was about to go off in Icelandic. Sören's accent was definitely heavier now as he spoke. "Since this isn't my home too, I'll be taking my leave now." Sören wheeled his suitcase over to the coat rack and started pulling on his trenchcoat.  
  
Tobias made a meow of distress. Sören cringed - Anthony knew that was going to be difficult, leaving the cat behind.  
  
Anthony didn't like the idea of Sören checking himself into a hotel during the holidays, all alone, especially not when he was like this. Even though he didn't want Nicholas to think he was siding against him, he still hobbled over to Sören. "You, ah... want to stay the night? Or for a bit?" He knew that it might take a few days or so for Sören to calm down. Then he gave Geir a nervous look - after all the talk of "my home", he realized he'd just invited Sören to stay at their flat without consulting Geir.  
  
But Geir nodded. "If you need to take a breather and chill out, you can stay with us." Geir turned to Nicholas and mouthed the words "sorry, Dad." Nicholas gave a small nod, closing his eyes with resignation.  
  
Sören bent to pet Tobias. "I'm sorry," Sören said to the cat. Then with a sigh, Sören led the way out of the flat. He waited in the hall, back turned, not looking back, as Geir and Anthony put their outerwear on.  
  
"I." Anthony didn't know what to say to Nicholas.  
  
Nicholas waved his hand dismissively. "Have a good rest of the evening, Anthony, if you can."  
  
Anthony frowned, and nodded on his way out.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Any other night, Anthony would be glad to have Sören sleep over. Most weeks he slept over at least once a week, sometimes twice - Nicholas let Sören have two days a week for his other partners. Anthony tried to be content with that, but he missed Sören terribly throughout the week. He relished more time with Sören, as he could get it.  
  
But not like this. He felt like he was collecting the spoils of war that had been a pyrrhic victory. He hoped that maybe Sören and Nicholas would be able to patch things up given a day or two, but the way Sören fell apart as soon as they got upstairs to his bedroom made Anthony realize Sören was deeply, deeply hurt, a lot moreso than he had let on in the argument with Nicholas.  
  
"Damn him," Sören choked out. " _Hann er að vera svona rassgat!_ "  
  
And there was the Icelandic that Anthony had been anticipating. Anthony only spoke a little of it, but he figured out what Sören was saying about Nicholas. He didn't want to agree, since he loved Nicholas and felt somewhat disloyal, but he didn't want to disagree, as that was disloyal to Sören. Once again he felt torn. And aching that there wasn't something more he could do. _I argue cases for a living, I can't get the two people I care about the most in this world to sit down like adults and bloody fix things._  
  
All he could do right now was hold Sören. Hold him and let him cry. He got out his weighted blanket, and put it on the bed. They quickly changed and washed up for the night, and once they were in bed Anthony rocked Sören underneath the weighted blanket, pet him, made soothing noises, trying to console the inconsolable. He had seen Sören cry many times over the years, but never so brokenly. It made Anthony cry a little too.  
  
" _Ég hata hann svo mikið. Þetta þrjóska rassgat, hann heldur að ég búi ekki fokking þarna og tilfinningar mínar skipta ekki máli. Ég hata það að ég elska hann ennþá. Ég var hálfviti að hugsa um að ég myndi einhvern tíma finna hamingju aftur._ "  
  
"Sweetheart." Anthony kissed Sören's tears, arms tightening around him. "Try to get some rest. Maybe things won't look so bad tomorrow -"  
  
"They don't look bad. They _are_ bad." Sören snuffled. "Fucking _prick_ , wants to take away what's rightfully _mine_ -"  
  
"Hush." Anthony started to massage Sören's scalp. He felt sudden weight on the bed, heard a "Prrp?" and a deep, rumbly purr. Seumas came over to sniff Sören, and promptly flomped over for pettings. "See, Seumas thinks you should try to rest, too."  
  
Sören gave the cat some love, but continued crying. "I can't rest. Don't you understand? My entire life fell apart tonight. He disrespected me. How can I go back to him?"  
  
Anthony sighed. He pulled Sören's head against his shoulder, kissed the top of Sören's head, and rubbed his back. "Sometimes people who love each other, hurt each other. You and I worked things out, eventually. Took us close to two years, but."  
  
"Jæja, and I'm not going through that a second time. I can already see the cracks in the foundation with me and him... I don't want history to repeat itself."  
  
That was the opposite of what Anthony had been intending when he brought up their past history - he hated that Sören was being so final about Nicholas - but he didn't want to argue. He felt exhausted, and it wasn't terribly late. Just terribly sad.  
  
Sören broke down again, weeping. Seumas made a noise of distress and began aggressively headbutting and kneading Sören. A few minutes later Miss Balls crept in and also got on the bed, watching with her big, concerned owl eyes, trying to purr everyone better. But Sören's pain was the kind that not even cats could help. He cried and cried all night long, and Anthony held him, watched over him. He couldn't fix things, but he could at least be Sören's living fortress in the storm.


	3. Older, But Not Wiser

Nicholas didn't sleep well that night. He had slept alone before on nights when Sören had to work overnight shift or was with Anthony or Craig, but he was still used to Sören being there most nights. The younger man was good to snuggle with, like a living heated blanket. And Nicholas was fond of watching Sören sleep, looking at peace, long lashes framing his cheeks, curls tousled. Studying him, admiring his beauty.  
  
But Sören wasn't just a warm body, wasn't just a pretty face. For close to two years they had built a life together, cozy and content. They were nesting partners in the truest sense of the word - this was their love nest, their refuge. Nicholas enjoyed coming home to Sören, spending time with him, all the little things that meant so much.  
  
Nicholas had been a bachelor all his life, before Sören came along. For a time it was imposed by the Roman Catholic Church, when he was a priest. But even after leaving the priesthood, and religion, Nicholas had become set in his ways. Some of his single life had been because he was wary of being outed in a time when discrimination against gays was rampant; he was doubly wary during the peak of the AIDS epidemic, when HIV was still a death sentence rather than a chronic illness that could be managed with the right drugs. And a lot of his singleness could be attributed to being a reserved and socially awkward introvert, with interests that didn't seem to interest most people. His nearly two years with Sören had been something of an anomaly - all those decades alone and yet, Sören was such a fixture in his life, the center of his universe, that he could barely recall what it was like to be alone, before Sören came along. He remembered it, of course, but it felt alien.  
  
Now he seemed to be back to square one. He struggled with insomnia most of the night, missing Sören, regretting his choice of words and yet feeling very adamantly that his sense of honor, his values, had been undermined by someone who purported to care about him, and that bode very ill for their future. Nicholas tried to look at it objectively - maybe he was being too hard, maybe it would do no harm for Sören to keep the stone - but he had never seen anything like it. It glowed with a light that was almost supernatural in its intensity. And it threw off heat. Nicholas wasn't entirely sure the stone wasn't radioactive. But there was something more. Something that made him uneasy. It was a beautiful, exquisite stone, to be sure; Nicholas wanted to just relax and enjoy its wonder. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling of doom when he looked at it, the sense of dread, almost like it was _cursed_ in some way. That reaction was completely irrational, and Nicholas knew it was probably feeding his insistence that Sören give up the stone for scientific inquiry. He also wondered if it was because of the remarkable qualities of the stone, the way it was not _normal_ for a stone to be giving off so much light, so much heat.  
  
He had carried that expectation of disaster for months, and now the stone had, in fact, brought him disaster - Sören had left him over it. _My partner left me for a rock._ It would have been comical if it weren't so utterly sad.  
  
Nicholas felt himself frowning as he got out of bed and began his morning business. School wouldn't be back in session for another week, and while Nicholas usually appreciated having a holiday, he needed the distraction. The flat felt empty without Sören's presence. Deafeningly so.  
  
Tobias seemed to think so as well. He was perched on top of his cat tree by the window, looking out like he was searching for Sören. When he saw Nicholas he gave a plaintive meow.  
  
Nicholas sighed. "Yes, I know." He stroked the cat's back, rubbed his whisker pads. "I know."  
  
As the morning wore on Tobias continued to keep vigil at the window. At last he hopped down and paced back and forth, meowing frantically, the loudest and most distressed Nicholas had ever heard. Tobias was inconsolable - not food, nor treats, nor pettings, would make him stop pacing and yelling, as if he were calling out for Sören and hoping Sören would hear, wherever he was.  
  
Nicholas couldn't concentrate on his book. He felt like crying, upset to see the cat this way... and he missed Sören too. Reluctantly, he took out his cell phone and hit Sören's number on speed dial.  
  
He knew Sören was working this afternoon, but he also knew that if Sören didn't take an important call immediately, he would step out a short while later and call back. So when a half-hour passed, an hour, he knew he was being deliberately ignored. Which, perhaps, was to be expected, but still stung.  
  
Nicholas tried again. After another hour passed with no call back, Nicholas sent a text message. _Let's try to talk about this._ He hoped that maybe Sören could be reasoned with, perhaps they could find some sort of compromise, like Sören agreeing to let the stone be examined for a limited time period.  
  
The hours passed and there was no response, not even when Sören was scheduled to be on break. Tobias lay with his chin on the floor, looking despondent, letting out a pitiful whine now and again.  
  
There were still leftovers, and Nicholas reheated them for dinner. It got close to the time when Sören would be getting out of work. Eating alone made him feel terribly lonely, and after he knew Sören had been out for a half-hour, he dialed Sören's number again.  
  
This time Sören picked up after one ring. "Jæja." He sounded annoyed.  
  
"Sören..." Nicholas cleared his throat. Just the sound of Sören's voice went right to his heart, making him tear up. "Come home."  
  
"Don't you mean, to _your_ home?"  
  
Nicholas sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I didn't word things as considerately as I could have -"  
  
"No shit."  
  
"But... I'd appreciate it if we could at least try to talk things out."  
  
"Nick, I have had a very long day and the _last_ fucking thing I want to do right now is get into another argument with you. And that's what it would turn into, isn't it?"  
  
"I think you're assuming bad faith -"  
  
"OK, let me just ask you point blank. When you say 'talk things out', are you willing to listen to my side of things at all? Are you willing to accept a scenario that does not involve me turning in the stone to a museum or a science department at a university?"  
  
Nicholas didn't answer that right away. He was profoundly uncomfortable with that scenario.  
  
Sören took his silence as an answer, and went on, "Right. So your idea of 'talking things out' is to try to convince me, yet again, to give it up. I don't think so." Sören hung up.  
  
Nicholas threw his phone down on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. Tobias came over, whined, and started headbutting him. Nicholas felt tears stinging his eyes but he wouldn't allow himself to give in to tears. Not just yet.  
  
Five minutes later, Sören sent a text. _By the way? Stop fucking calling me and texting me about it. Until and unless you're willing to let it go and allow me to keep it without riding my ass about it... leave me the fuck alone._  
  
Now Nicholas cried. _It's over._ He felt deeply hurt - that Sören chose a stone over him, that Sören was completely disregarding his values like this. After nearly two years. They had loved each other so much. They had made things _work_ , even with all their differences - age, background, tastes and interests...  
  
 _And perhaps I was a fool to think that would last long. Perhaps what is happening here is the sum of all our differences, and I was simply too blind to see it until now._  
  
But he missed Sören. Even as badly as he was hurt, even as angry as he was that Sören was being so _difficult and unreasonable_ about this... he missed those sweet brown eyes, his laughter, his jokes, his kindness, his touch. He missed their walks. He missed sharing common ground, like chess games, movies, literature, walking, tai chi, gardening together, cooking together. And this was just the first day. Only one day, and it felt like an eternity apart.  
  
Nicholas felt helpless, and he had to _do_ something. He found himself getting up, going to the closet where he kept the boxes that stored the Christmas decorations when not in season, and he began to take the tree down. He usually waited until Epiphany in January to take down the Christmas decorations - one of the few leftovers from his time as a Catholic priest - but he couldn't stand it. As he packed up the ornaments, then the tree itself, he thought bitterly, _I am never celebrating Christmas again._  
  
Sören had taken most of his things - like his stuffed animals, the Fabergé egg that held the stone - but in his haste to just go, Sören had left behind his figurines of the Jólasveinar, Grýla and Leppalúði and the Jólakötturinn. Nicholas started crying again as he delicately wrapped them up and put them in their own box. He needed to find a way to get these to Sören, even though it was one of the only things he had, besides Sören's paintings on the walls.  
  
Nicholas sat on the floor with the boxes, breaking down in tears again. He hadn't just taken down and packed up the Christmas decorations, but he felt like he'd taken down and packed up his hopes for the future.  
  
He felt soul-sick, like a piece of him was gone. There was only the silence of his tears.  
  
  
_  
  
The next day, December twenty-eighth, was Nicholas's birthday. He was turning sixty-eight. He didn't much feel like celebrating.  
  
Nonetheless, Geir stopped by at five PM, carrying a tote bag and a box of store-bought brownies. "I didn't think you'd made a cake for yourself," he explained.  
  
"I hadn't." Nicholas made the "come in" gesture, surprised to see Geir.  
  
He wasn't surprised that Sören hadn't shown, since he'd asked to be left alone, and he got the sense that Anthony would side with Sören, regardless of his personal feelings. Nicholas found himself missing Anthony, too - he was fond of Anthony. In truth, he found Anthony quite attractive and the thought had crossed his mind awhile back of broaching the subject of their mutual relationship with Sören becoming a triad, sharing each other as well as Sören. But now that seemed out of the question.  
  
Geir fussed over Tobias. It was good of Geir to continue their friendship - Nicholas missed Karen, who had promised to keep in touch after she left back in June and then hadn't, and Ben and Pierre had since drifted away, in part because of their own busy lives and different social circles, and in part because things were still awkward between Ben and Craig.  
  
Nicholas wasn't expecting Craig to come by, even though he was invited to the original birthday plans, but Craig arrived almost fifteen minutes later. "Hasn't Sören told you?" Nicholas asked, not wanting to cause problems with Sören and Craig.  
  
Craig nodded. "Sören told me it's up to me whether I continue to associate with you or not, and... I don't want to get in the middle. You've been good to me, you know?"  
  
"Well, do come in. Geir brought brownies."  
  
There was still egg nog, and Nicholas poured glasses of egg nog for his guests. Geir stuck a tiny birthday candle in one of the brownies and sang to Nicholas:  
  
 _Hurra for deg som fyller ditt år!  
Ja, deg vil vi gratulere!  
Alle i ring omkring deg vi står,  
og se, nå vil vi marsjere,  
bukke, nikke, neie, snu oss omkring,  
danse for deg med hopp og sprett og spring,  
ønske deg av hjertet alle gode ting!  
Og si meg så, hva vil du mere?  
Gratulere!_  
  
Even though the language was Norwegian and not Icelandic, Nicholas still felt his eyes tearing up, remembering Sören speaking in his native language, so beautiful, an erotic turn-on even when Sören was fuming in it. Perhaps especially then, looking so sexy with the fire in his eyes. Nicholas pulled himself together and managed a polite smile at Geir. "Thank you. Or, _takk_ , I should say."  
  
Geir smiled back. "I hope the brownies are decent. I'm sorry they're store-bought..."  
  
"It's the thought that counts."  
  
The brownies weren't that good - a bit dry, and more bland than he would have liked, but Nicholas was polite about it, eating his. He made small talk with Geir and Craig about what they were up to, both relieved that they hadn't turned their back on him, so he wasn't friendless in addition to partnerless, but also feeling intensely awkward, since it felt like pouring salt in the wound to observe his birthday with Sören gone.  
  
Finally Geir said, "Anthony says happy birthday, by the way."  
  
"He... he doesn't hate me." Nicholas didn't know what to think about that.  
  
"He doesn't want to get in the middle either, though I'm sure you understand why he's not here."  
  
"I do." Nicholas nodded. "It means a lot that you're here."  
  
Geir smiled again, but this smile was sad. "Dad, I need to tell you something." Geir looked at Craig. "You might as well know this, too."  
  
Craig raised an eyebrow. Nicholas braced himself.  
  
Geir looked down, as if to collect his thoughts, then looked up and sat back in his chair. "Earlier this month, I got an offer from the London Philharmonic." Geir was a flautist with the Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, which was nothing to sneeze at, but the London Philharmonic was even more prestigious.  
  
"Geir, that's wonderful." Nicholas was sincerely proud of Geir, who was like a son or grandson to him. "Have you accepted?"  
  
"Not yet." Geir took a deep breath. "If I take this job, I'm going to be on tour half the year. I would still make it a point to keep in touch, unlike some people..." Craig narrowed his eyes and nodded, frowning, knowing Geir was talking about Karen. "But that's still a lot of time away."  
  
"Indeed it is. But if you're worried about... leaving me alone, I wouldn't want to stand in the way of your career." Nicholas felt a twinge of guilt. He would miss Geir, but he didn't want Geir to end up resenting him and the others for holding him back.  
  
"I know, but..." Geir shrugged. "I would miss you guys. I mean, it's not just my career I'm thinking about, but my mental health. I don't know my father, and my relationship with my mother is nonexistent. This little circle of friends is the closest thing I've ever had to a family, and it's shrunk down a bit since Karen left and Ben and Pierre can't be bothered to say hi more than once in a great while. And now with you and Sören having problems, I feel like that would disrupt things even more, if I went away -"  
  
"You don't think they're going to work things out soon?" Craig gave Nicholas a nervous glance, then Geir.  
  
Geir raised his eyebrows. "Not especially soon, no. Which is unfortunate. I _want_ you guys to get back together, but it can't be forced."  
  
"No, it can't be. And it shan't be." Nicholas scowled. "Especially not when he's being so damn _stubborn_ -"  
  
"ANYWAY," Geir went on, "so it would bother me a lot to be gone half the year away from the only family I have, it would bother me even more to feel like I was abandoning you. That might change - the offer is very tempting -"  
  
"How long do you have to accept the offer?" Nicholas raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Till April. That's when they need to fill the flautist chair that's opening up."  
  
"Well... I want you to do the right thing for yourself," Nicholas said.  
  
"You'll still have me," Craig said, "you know, if I don't totally annoy you."  
  
"You don't," Nicholas said honestly. He was admittedly not fond of Craig when they'd first met, but Craig had grown on him a lot. "And, you'd only be gone _half_ the year," he said, turning back to Geir. "I assume you'd still be around the other half."  
  
"That's the plan," Geir said. " _If_ I take it."  
  
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Does Anthony know?"  
  
"Not yet. I realize I should tell him since we're roommates, and I promise if I take the offer I'll give him enough advance notice to find another place or get someone else to move into the flat. But I don't want him, or Sören, to get stressed out about it, which is why I'm holding off. I was actually going to make the announcement to all of you today, but with things being, ah, the way they are right now, I'm going to hold off on telling Sören and Anthony for at least a few more weeks yet. Give myself more time to make a final decision - I think right now with emotions running so high I probably shouldn't decide yes or no."  
  
"That seems prudent," Nicholas said. Whatever his personal feelings towards Sören, he didn't want Sören to be under even more stress at the prospect of Geir leaving, or feeling guilty if Geir decided to stay.  
  
"Speaking of flute..." Geir retrieved his tote bag and pulled out his flute case. He put on an impromptu concert, playing for both Nicholas and Craig. That warmed Nicholas's heart - Geir's flute playing was almost magical, soothing him, constructing landscapes in his mind. Fountains, forests, rain, starlight, bright skies, the flight of eagles. Nicholas's heart was still broken, but at least for a little while, he could get lost in the music.


	4. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for Sören having a PTSD nightmare about his aunt and uncle's abuse. If you get triggered by on-screen abuse and want to skip this by using the Find function, it starts at "He is twelve again" and ends with "He does not paint again for years."

It was Friday, January the thirteenth. It had been eighteen days since Sören had walked out on Nicholas. He was still staying with Anthony and Geir. Thus far, neither of them had put pressure on Sören to try to work things out with Nicholas and go back, or find another place to stay. If anything, Anthony seemed to enjoy living with Sören again, and after the crash of the breakup with Nicholas, his world going up in flames all over again, Sören found the old familiarity comforting. Towards the end of his first go-round with Anthony in 2013, he and Anthony had talked about getting a place together in central London so they'd have less of a commute to their respective jobs than they did living in Kingston, and they'd also talked about getting one or two cats. Here they were in a flat in Covent Garden, with Anthony's two cats; Sören felt almost like he'd entered some parallel reality where he and Anthony had never broken up.  
  
It wasn't hard to get readjusted to living with Anthony again. Anthony still was an early riser, and still tended to do "homework" for his cases on the weekends, rumpled and sexy in pajamas and his wire-rimmed glasses. He still had a housekeeper come by twice a month for a more thorough cleaning of the flat. He and Sören liked to play old video games together, like Sonic the Hedgehog. He was still good to cuddle up with. The big difference between then and now was that Anthony no longer drove, and he needed a cane to get around, so he was in the habit of taking public transit to do things like grocery shopping, which itself was a big deal since Anthony had been self-conscious about being seen in public with his cane for a long time, but now was a lot more nonchalant about it; his old confidence seemed to have returned with the help of therapy and support of friends. Anthony also cooked more often than he used to, which was nice because Sören was often too tired to handle it when he got home from shifts at the hospital. It was also nice to see Anthony willing to get past his previous hangups about cooking; Sören had a feeling Nicholas's influence had helped with that, since Nicholas loved to cook.  
  
Since Sören and Anthony had gotten back together in June, all of their old passion for each other had rekindled, the two of them as insatiable for each other as they once were. But after leaving Nicholas, Sören had only been intimate with Anthony a few times. Sören was depressed, enough to withdraw. He wasn't working on art projects in his spare time either, even though his tablet had come with him. He spent a lot of time in bed, sleeping or just laying there, alternating between his mind's eye replaying the tension and final argument with Nicholas and getting angry and upset all over again, or dissociating, like the breakup with Nicholas had been traumatic enough that he had to just shut down for awhile. Anthony seemed to understand that Sören wasn't going to be his usual self so soon after what happened with Nicholas, but Sören still felt guilty about it, and that fed into his self-loathing.  
  
While Anthony hadn't gotten on Sören's case to reconcile with Nicholas, and he hadn't given Sören a hard time about how frequently Sören was hiding in bed, yesterday Anthony had gently suggested that Sören should make it a point to see Craig, since Sören hadn't gotten together with Craig since 2017 started, and Anthony didn't want Sören and Craig to start having problems too. So that evening Sören had called Craig and asked if he had plans for the very next day, and Craig had been eager to spend Friday night with Sören. Sören still felt sad and wanting to isolate, but he didn't want Craig to feel rejected - Craig was his pet, after all, and Sören knew it was his job as Craig's dom to give him reassurances, make him feel secure.  
  
So now Sören was getting ready to go over to Craig's flat to spend the night. Craig wanted to take Sören out to dinner first, and even though Sören didn't really want to be out in public feeling as depressed and anxious as he was, he also wanted to make Craig happy and he knew that a change of pace might do him some good. For the first time in months, he got dressed up, putting on black leather pants, a white ruffly poet's blouse, and a black vest. His hair had grown out enough that he could tie some back into a low tail, with the rest of his curls hanging loose. The engagement ring Anthony had given back to him hung on its chain, glittering against Sören's sternum. Sören was putting on mascara, a holdover from his youth as a goth, when Anthony came behind him in the bathroom. Sören managed a weak smile in the mirror, which became a genuine smile as Anthony propped his cane up against the sink and Anthony's arms encircled him from behind, Anthony's chest against his back, and Anthony gave him a kiss.  
  
"Hi, beautiful," Anthony said.  
  
Sören bit his lower lip. "Hi beautiful yourself."  
  
Anthony turned pink. Sören turned around and kissed the tip of Anthony's nose. Anthony grabbed his cane and leaned on it, looking Sören up and down. "Craig is one lucky man this evening."  
  
Sören chuckled. "Geir is luckier." Sören thought about what Anthony and Geir might get up to while he was away this evening and a frisson went through him. "Presuming he's coming back tonight."  
  
Anthony nodded. "Yeah, we have... plans." Anthony gave a nervous little laugh. Then he touched Sören's cheek. "Though I'd rather they be with you. But I still think you need to spend some time with Craig."  
  
Sören kissed Anthony's hand. "Thank you for being so understanding about, you know. My other relationships." Sören caught himself. "Relationship." While Sören and Geir were sometimes intimate as well, and there were feelings, Sören didn't quite define Geir as a romantic partner the way he did Anthony or Craig - Geir was more free in his associations and how he spent his time, not wanting to be tied down. But it hadn't been Geir that Sören was thinking of when he used the plural word - and he hated that his mind still clung to Nicholas, like there was any hope that they would reconcile. It had been over two weeks; the more days passed, the less hope Sören had. The _angrier_ he got, that Nicholas couldn't understand his point of view, wanted to take away something that belonged to him, something that was important and meaningful to him...  
  
The bitter irony was that in Sören's dreams, he'd made three of those stones, in honor of his love for Nicholas and Anthony, the lights of his life. He'd wondered several times since the final argument if telling Nicholas he'd dreamt of the stone before he found it, would make a difference in Nicholas's opinion. Since Nicholas was an avowed atheist after having left the Roman Catholic Church behind - though he practiced tai chi, but attributed its effects to mind-over-body rather than "energy" - Sören had a feeling Nicholas wouldn't be sympathetic to the paranormal tone of the deepest reason why Sören felt the need to keep the stone. On the other hand, Anthony and Sören had many similar dreams of what seemed like a past life, and Sören hadn't told Anthony about the stone showing up in his dreams but he wondered if Anthony had dreamt about it... and if Anthony providing some sort of evidence that something was going on would sway Nicholas.  
  
 _Or get him to double down even more and say "this is exactly why it should be studied by scientists"._  
  
Sören sighed. He thought about bringing up the dreams of the stone with Anthony - he had a little time to kill before Craig was coming to pick him up. Sören opened his mouth and just before Sören could address the subject, Anthony's voice cut into his thoughts. "Sören, I need to talk to you about something."  
  
"We need to talk" was never good, and Sören braced himself. They went downstairs, Sören's heart sinking with every step. His heart was pounding when he and Anthony sat in the living room. Miss Balls came over for pettings, and Anthony let Sören fuss over the cat for a minute before he leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and folded his hands.  
  
"OK," Anthony said. "I've been mulling this over for the past couple of weeks, since you came to stay with us, not knowing a delicate way of phrasing it, but -"  
  
"Oh god," Sören muttered.  
  
"No, it's not anything bad," Anthony said, meeting his eyes, giving him an encouraging little smile. Then Anthony frowned. "Or at least... I hope you won't take it badly."  
  
"Oh for fuck's sake, what is it." Sören felt ready to cry, and he didn't want to do that when he'd just put on mascara.  
  
"Shit. Sören. I... I don't mean to alarm you."  
  
"I shouldn't assume the worst, but..." Sören's eyes filled. He took some deep breaths.  
  
"It's understandable. You've been through a lot. I'm not angry."  
  
Sören desperately grasped for levity, not wanting to break down. "Hi Not Angry -"  
  
Anthony threw a couch pillow; Sören caught it and found himself hugging it tight. Miss Balls went over to Anthony, and as Anthony began stroking the cat he said, "OK. Here goes. When you and I first started talking about rebuilding trust, a year and a half ago, one of the terms and conditions to prove to you this was worth taking a chance on, was me having friends besides you. And for awhile, it seemed like I had found friends again, but in recent months, Karen has dropped out of touch and Ben and Pierre mostly have, too. So that leaves Geir, and... I don't know if I can call Craig a friend or not. We're friendly but we've never hung out, or..."  
  
Sören nodded. The absence of Karen was still a sore spot - they had broken up, but they had agreed to stay friends and her completely ghosting everyone was the opposite of that. "Please tell me that Trisha and Vincente haven't come around wanting to spend time with you again." Of everyone out of Anthony's former friends group, Sören held Trisha and Vincente in least regard, who had actively made him feel unwelcome and had played psychological games with him that ended up doing real damage to his relationship with Anthony. Sören also hated Steve, who they'd encountered back in June and had stolen Anthony's cane and mocked his disability, but Sören knew Anthony wouldn't be forgiving with him.  
  
"No, but you might think this is worse."  
  
Sören folded his arms. There was very little he could think of that was worse than Trisha and Vincente.  
  
"Besides," Anthony went on, "latest gossip at Lincoln's Inn is that Trisha and Vincente have filed for divorce."  
  
Sören went from almost crying to a deep belly laugh, feeling grim satisfaction that those two were getting divorced. "Good. Fuckers."  
  
Anthony smirked. "I thought you might appreciate that tidbit of information."  
  
"Do you know why? Is it irreconcilable differences, or..."  
  
"Vincente cheated on her." Anthony frowned, knowing how much that topic hit close to home for Sören, with their own past history, though Anthony had only been unfaithful once, an isolated incident during a long sexual drought when Sören was working a hundred hours a week. "He had a reputation as a dog when we were in uni, but had claimed he'd changed."  
  
Sören wanted to feel bad for Trisha, considering his own experience, but he remembered the haircut that had been sprung on him by them, with Trisha claiming it was "just a trim for split ends" and Sören had been shorn. He instinctively rubbed his head as if he were checking to make sure all his hair was still there; it wasn't lost on him that he'd grown his hair out even longer than before it had been cut, like an act of defiance. "She's taking him to the cleaners, já?" Trisha seemed like the type to make a divorce messy and expensive.  
  
Anthony nodded solemnly. "Hence why it's a bit of a hot topic of discussion at the Inn. Hell hath no fury, I guess." Anthony made a sour face of disgust. "She's a bitch and I hope she doesn't see a single cent from him, and as far as Vincente goes, I hope he gets an STD."  
  
Sören cackled. "Wow, Anthony."  
  
"They hurt you. And I was a bloody idiot, not seeing them for what they were then." Anthony sighed. "I'm so sorry -"  
  
Sören waved his hand dismissively; Anthony had apologized plenty of times over the last year and a half, and more importantly, Anthony's behavior demonstrated that he truly was sorry. "They're gone. We're here. And... you were going to tell me who you want to be friends with that's worse than those two twats."  
  
"Yes. What I mean by worse is..." Anthony cleared his throat. "I know you don't mind if Craig keeps in touch with Nicholas, and Geir, but I'm not either of them, and didn't want to just assume. And considering our past history, I always feel it's better to be transparent with you now and discuss it before going ahead and doing something that has potential to be awkward or damaging. But... I feel bad that I wasn't there for Nicholas's birthday - you needed me, I don't regret being there for you, I just..."  
  
"You still want to be friends with him," Sören said.  
  
"If you don't mind. If... if you do mind, if that's going to be a problem, I understand, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. But before what happened, we _were_ friends, and -"  
  
Sören put up his hand, not needing him to explain further - not wanting him to explain further, wanting to stop talking about Nicholas as soon as possible. Sören didn't like it, but he also didn't want to be controlling, and the fact was, he _had_ told Anthony that he needed friends, and he still felt that it was healthier for Anthony to have friends. He also knew Nicholas needed friends - Nicholas's own social circle had shrunk with the departure of Karen and the infrequent contact with Ben and Pierre - and as angry as he was with Nicholas, he still cared and the thought of Nicholas alone and lonely broke his heart.  
  
"OK," Sören said simply.  
  
"OK, meaning... yes?"  
  
Sören nodded. "One condition. I feel bad saying this because this is technically your flat, you're just letting me stay here as a guest, but... so long as I'm staying here, it would be fucking weird for him to come over."  
  
"Yes, I know. I wasn't planning on it." Anthony exhaled. "Actually, when I said Geir and I have plans, besides the obvious sexytimes, Geir wanted to go visit Nicholas first and see how he's doing, and I said I needed to discuss that with you first."  
  
"Ah. I'm glad you did. But... it's fine. You need friends, and so does he." Sören closed his eyes, thinking about Nicholas sleeping alone, eating alone, sitting in the living room alone. _Oh god. No. No..._ He hated that he still cared about Nicholas like this, that the thought of Nicholas feeling lonely tore at him like nothing else. _If he feels lonely, he brought it on his fucking self with how he treated me._ And yet, that had been an anomaly in what had otherwise been a beautiful relationship. Sören had trusted Nicholas with his heart, his life. His deepest wounds, calling Nicholas his daddy, Nicholas's tender loving care as his father figure a balm for the hurt orphaned boy he still was inside.  
  
 _And he abandoned me over being up his own ass with his ideals. Some daddy._  
  
"You're very, very sure this is fine?" Anthony raised an eyebrow. "I don't want you to feel pressured to say yes to go along, and have you stewing in resentment -"  
  
Sören pinched the bridge of his nose. "I would be lying if I said I was fully comfortable with it, but that's just because the entire subject of Nick is... you know." And Sören hated that he was still thinking of Nicholas as "Nick", using the informal name that nobody else got away with using, just him, a certain intimacy in that allowance of informality. "You can be friends. If he's not coming over, that shouldn't affect me much."  
  
"OK. Thank you." Anthony rose up on his cane and came over to the couch to give Sören a tight hug. "Do you... want me to pass on any messages to him?"  
  
"I suppose 'fuck you' is impolite." Sören laughed despite himself. Then he shook his head. "No. But... give Toby some pettings for me." And then Sören teared up again. He missed the cat almost as much as he missed Nicholas. Seumas and Miss Balls were adorable, sweet cats and he loved them too, but Tobias was like his own child, and being away from the cat - the thought of never seeing Tobias again - was its own well of grief.  
  
"I'll do that." Anthony kissed the top of Sören's head. "I know you miss the kitty, sweetheart." He rubbed Sören's back.  
  
"Nya," Seumas said, who had come out for attention.  
  
"Yeah, you heard that, didn't you?" Sören gave the cat an amused look. "You can't deal with other cats getting pettings, can you?"  
  
"Nya." Seumas put his front paws up on Sören's knee, and then he hopped up and climbed onto Sören's shoulder, purring loudly. He headbutted Sören's cheek, and proceeded to climb around to drape himself over both shoulders, purring harder against the back of Sören's neck.  
  
That was when Craig beeped outside. "Shit," Sören said. It was just the right time for Craig's arrival. He got up from the couch - Seumas still sat on his shoulders, clinging and kneading. Anthony smirked as he too, got up and hobbled over to where Sören had his overnight bag by the door. He handed it to Sören.  
  
"Seumas, go see your dad," Sören said, sidling up next to Anthony. Seumas continued to cling. Anthony chuckled and put his cane against the wall and leaned against the wall as he pulled Seumas off of Sören's shoulders. Seumas let out a whine of protest and immediately hopped down and ran away, but got as far as the couch before he turned to give them a stricken "how dare you" look.  
  
Sören snorted. "I'm sorry," he told the cat. "I'll make it up to you when I get back, all right?"  
  
" _Nya._ "  
  
Sören put on his trenchcoat, then Anthony gave Sören a kiss - a little kiss then a deeper one, a promise of passion when Sören returned. Sören moaned into the kiss as their tongues teased, cock stirring in his tight leather trousers. Anthony grinned and slapped Sören's ass. "I love you. Have fun," Anthony said.  
  
"I love you too. And... I'll try." Sören blew Anthony a kiss on the way out.  
  
But he did have something in his overnight bag to ensure success. When he got out of work earlier today, Sören had taken a detour to Liberation, a fetish shop in Covent Garden. It specialized in latex gear, but Sören was there for something else - their toy selection. After three weeks of not having a night with Craig, Sören wanted to do something special. And he, himself, needed something intense, needing to let go and get lost tonight. He had found just the thing.  
  
  
_  
  
  
For their date, Craig took Sören to an upmarket seafood restaurant, knowing his Icelandic boyfriend liked fish. Craig also looked smart for the occasion - they made an interesting contrast between Sören's glam-pirate look and Craig's khakis, off-white button-down shirt and brown-and-beige sweater vest. Craig's unruly sandy waves betrayed the preppy look, as did his mischievous, dimpled smile that came frequently as they played footsie under the table.  
  
It started to rain as Craig drove them back to his flat. Sören found the sound of the rain peaceful, the perfect antidote for the fraught conversation about Nicholas before Craig picked him up. Craig kept looking over at him, and Sören finally looked back at him with a "Hm?"  
  
"Oh, you know." There was that sweet, adorable smile again, that made Sören want to do bad things to the younger man. "It's nice to see you relaxed. I've been worried about you after..." Craig's voice trailed off, as if he realized bringing up what happened with Nicholas was the opposite of relaxation.  
  
"I'm OK," Sören lied. He didn't want to tell Craig about all the time he'd been spending sleeping or dissociating. He knew some grief after a breakup was normal - he'd been a wreck for months after the breakup with Anthony in 2013 - but he also knew that Craig with his own mental health issues probably didn't need to know how bad his dom was doing. He was supposed to be the strong one, and Sören felt guilty that he was so fragile right now.  
  
"That's bullshit," Craig said, his smile fading as he looked back at the road, "but I won't press it."  
  
Sören sighed. "Jæja."  
  
"I've been worried about you. It's been three weeks. I usually see you sooner than that, I knew it had to be bad." Craig frowned. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Me too." Sören tilted his head back and closed his eyes with a deep sigh. "Not to be a dick, but... can we change the subject, or not talk about him, that? It's just... you know. A lot."  
  
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I brought it up."  
  
"You did nothing wrong." Sören opened his eyes and reached out to give Craig shoulder pats of assurance. "You're a good boy for caring how I'm doing."  
  
Craig leaned in to nuzzle Sören's hand. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
They continued the rest of the way in silence, except for the rain falling. When they reached Craig's flat, they ran quickly to the front door. Kylie, Craig's black-and-white collie-setter mix, came bounding to the door, tongue lolling, tail wagging. Kylie stood up on her hind legs and licked Sören as he stooped to pet her, and Sören laughed. He loved that dog, and he especially loved Craig doting on her, as he did now, petting her and kissing her snout. "Hi, baby," he cooed. "Were you good while Dad was gone? Do you want some treats?"  
  
Kylie yipped.  
  
Sören saw from following Craig into the kitchen that he'd probably fed Kylie before he left. Craig got a bag of dog treats out of the cupboard and put a few down on a plate. Sören smiled as Kylie gobbled them up, then laughed as she came over looking for more. Craig handed Sören the bag and Sören gave Kylie a couple of treats, giggling as she put her snout in his hand and practically inhaled the treats. He pet her. "Good girl," he said. Then he pet Craig. "Good boy."  
  
Craig beamed.  
  
Craig made tea, and when it was ready they went out to the living room. Sören put his feet up on the ottoman - work had been exhausting - and after they finished their tea, Craig grabbed Sören's legs and swung them over onto his lap. Craig began to massage Sören's feet. Sören sighed and purred, melting into his touch. " _Very_ good boy," Sören said.  
  
"I want to be good to you." Their eyes met; Craig's eyes were such a beautiful shade of blue. Sören smiled. Craig pressed harder, hitting a good spot on the arch of Sören's foot. "You take care of me... sometimes I should take care of you."  
  
"Oh, _elskan._ " Sören reached over and tousled Craig's hair.  
  
Craig continued rubbing and kneading, draining the tension out of Sören deeper and deeper. Then, on a whim, Craig took off one of Sören's socks, and with a naughty look in his eye, he drew Sören's big toe into his mouth.  
  
Sören had never had his toes sucked before - feet had never really been Sören's thing - but now the moment was electric. He didn't realize how sensitive his toes were, and gasped when Craig gave the toe a few playful licks before sucking on it again.  
  
"Fuck." A shiver went through Sören, cock waking up. "Jesus."  
  
"Mmmmm." Craig grinned and tickled a light dusting of hair on Sören's toe. "You've got hobbit feet."  
  
Sören gigglesnorted and tweaked Craig's nose. "Oh come on, I know they're big and wide, but they're not _that_ hairy."  
  
"No, they're not, I just like picking on you. You pick on everyone."  
  
Sören stuck his tongue out. Craig also stuck his tongue out, and then he licked the next toe before he sucked on that one too. Sören moaned, another tingle of pleasure going through him.  
  
Then Sören started laughing, as he looked at the little bit of hair on his toes. "You know what's funny? Anthony's, like, really hairy, he has the hairiest legs I've ever seen, and he has no hair on his toes. He also has very long, elegant toes." Then Sören clapped his hand over his mouth, realizing Craig probably didn't need any of that information.  
  
Craig blushed a little - Sören wondered if he was getting mental images, and then he wondered if Craig liked those mental images. Sören briefly entertained the thought of a threesome with Craig and Anthony before his concentration broke, Craig sucking his middle toe.  
  
Sören was about ready to drag Craig off like a caveman, and then Kylie went to the door and whined. Craig groaned. "She needs to go out."  
  
"It's OK." Sören chuckled and patted him. "Let's take the dog out, then we can... continue."  
  
Sören put his sock back on, put on his boots, and his trenchcoat; Craig also put his outerwear back on. Craig clipped Kylie's leash through her collar and they were off.  
  
Even though Sören had gotten worked up from Craig teasing his toes, he still didn't mind walking in the rain. It was soothing, with the silver mist under the golden glow of the streetlamps, the rain and the barren winter trees lovely in a melancholy sort of way, reflecting his sadness yet still trying to carve out some moments of peace. They walked arm-in-arm, and when Kylie went off to do her business, they paused and Craig rested his head on Sören's shoulder. Sören pet Craig's damp hair, smiling back at his sweet smile. A minute later, Craig pulled Sören close, into a kiss. They kissed deeply, hungry for each other. When they moved back to catch their breath, Kylie had returned, sitting and waiting patiently. Craig and Sören gave her some pets, and turned around, heading back to Craig's flat.  
  
As soon as they got inside, Sören and Craig began kissing, taking off their outerwear and then stripping out of their clothes right there, their clothing haphazardly strewn around the living room, hands roaming, feverish, cocks rubbing together. Sören walked backwards, Craig marching him towards the bathroom. Craig turned on the shower and they resumed kissing as the water heated. Then Craig took Sören's hands and Sören followed him into the shower, holding each other and kissing fiercely under the hot spray and steam.  
  
They took turns soaping and shampooing each other, hands massaging and caressing. As they rinsed they kissed, cock rubbing cock, fingers brushing and walking over sensitive places - each other's spines and stomachs. They played with each other's pierced nipples. During their final rinse Sören shoved Craig against the shower wall and kissed his neck, making Craig buck against him, panting, whimpering, Craig's cock rubbing against his more insistently. "Oh god, I need you to fuck me so fucking bad," Craig moaned, nails in Sören's back.  
  
Sören laughed before he nibbled Craig's neck. "Soon, pet."  
  
Sören turned the shower off, and they toweled off. Craig led the way to his bedroom and a few steps in, Sören made a "wait" gesture and ran back to the living room to retrieve his overnight bag, which had his pajamas, a change of clothes, and the toy he'd bought. When he came back he was breathless, and Craig put an arm around him, leading him to the bedroom slowly and gently. Sören caught his breath as they sat on the bed together.  
  
"What would you like, sir?" Craig asked.  
  
Sören smiled. As much as he liked being submissive with Anthony - and Nicholas - there was a certain appeal in dominating the younger man. He looked into Craig's wide, trusting blue eyes, and stroked Craig's face for a moment, wanting to reinforce that trust between them, that their exchange of power was for their mutual benefit. He decided to warm up with something he knew Craig enjoyed very much. "Kneel."  
  
Craig got on his knees before Sören and looked up, smiling sweetly.  
  
"Suck me," Sören commanded.  
  
Craig got right to it, sucking eagerly, moaning with his mouth full. Sören moaned too, enjoying the feel of Craig's mouth on his cock, knowing after all this time the rhythm and motions that made him crazy. Sören grabbed Craig's hair and Craig sucked harder and faster, really getting into it, crying out "mmm, _mmmmmm_ " around the cock in his mouth.  
  
"That's a good boy," Sören breathed. He let out a gasp as Craig started rubbing his tongue as he sucked, and a moan as Craig's hand began to massage his balls. "Fuck, that's good. Such a good boy..."  
  
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm."  
  
The worship in Craig's eyes was just as erotic as the sensation. Sören shivered, cock throbbing, pleasure intensifying. Craig slowed down, teasing, and when Sören grabbed his hair again Craig sped up, even faster than before. Craig's grip tightened on Sören's balls, and Sören cried out. Then he noticed Craig's other shoulder moving, heard Craig moan with his mouth full, and knew Craig was stroking himself.  
  
"Did I say you could touch yourself, boy?" Sören wasn't really displeased - it turned him on to know Craig was turned on enough to start playing with himself - but he had to act the part.  
  
"Mmmm-mmm."  
  
"That's enough." Sören patted Craig's head.  
  
Craig reluctantly pulled the cock out of his mouth, pouting a little. Sören's cock was dripping precum, and Craig looked at it, then up at Sören, with such want that it made Sören laugh. "OK, you can taste it."  
  
"Thank you, sir." Craig began to lap up the precum, each lash of his tongue making Sören's breath catch.  
  
"Here." Sören patted the bed. "I get to touch you. I get to use what's mine."  
  
With that, they got into a sixty-nine, laying on their sides. Sören loved sucking cock just as much as he loved being sucked, if not more, and he sucked at Craig greedily, matching hunger for hunger, until they were both on that edge, trembling, making desperate noises. Sören took Craig's cock out of his mouth to lick it, not wanting him to come too soon, knowing the release would be all the better for building up. Craig took a few licks at Sören's cock and then started licking and sucking at Sören's sensitive balls. Sören cried out, and slapped Craig's ass. "You fucking tease," Sören rasped.  
  
"Mmmm-hmmmm." Craig sucked harder.  
  
Sören knew just how to tease him back... and get him ready for the toy. Sören's tongue traced around the rim of Craig's opening in slow, lazy circles, making Craig whine. Then Sören's tongue licked at Craig's passage, slowly at first, and when his tongue lashed away, hard and fast, Craig began to work his hips, fucking himself on Sören's tongue. Sören growled into his boy, reaching around to gently stroke Craig's cock as his tongue went wild. Eating Craig like this got him even more worked up, and the way Craig sucked at him harder, devouring, brought Sören dangerously close to orgasm. Sören stopped just before he could come, wanting to save his own climax for the right time.  
  
Sören pulled back his head. "I have something for you."  
  
"Mmm?" Craig stopped sucking. "What is it?"  
  
Sören gave an evil laugh and got up from the bed. Craig watched, cock dripping precum, as Sören walked over to the overnight bag. Craig's face lit up when he saw the toy, and he fell back onto the bed, laughing delightedly. "WOW."  
  
"I... was thinking of you." Sören started twirling the double dildo like a baton as he strolled back to the bed. "I thought this might be fun to try."  
  
"It looks fun." Craig sat back up. "So we're both..."  
  
Sören nodded. "If you want to."  
  
"Hell yeah, I want to." Craig smiled adoringly. "That's so fucking kinky."  
  
"That's the point." Sören grinned.  
  
Sören began to suck one end of the dildo, slowly at first, then faster, hungrily, Craig's eyes riveted. Craig started stroking himself again as he watched, and Sören playfully slapped Craig's hand away before he took the dildo out of his mouth and held the other end at Craig's lips. Sören's cock pulsed, balls tightening, as he watched the dildo glide in and out of Craig's mouth, glistening wet. After a moment Sören resumed sucking the other end. Just sucking the dildo together got Sören even more worked up, feeling utterly debauched, and they'd only just begun.  
  
Craig got the lube. Sören presented his ass and Craig poured lube into the crack; Sören moaned as it dripped down and again as Craig worked his fingers inside, finding that spot right away. Then it was Craig's turn. Craig on his hands and knees, ass in the air, looked so inviting that Sören fought the urge to get behind Craig and fuck him himself. That urge got even more intense as Craig rocked his hips, fucking Sören's fingers. Sören growled and slapped Craig's ass. Craig moaned and Sören spanked him again.  
  
Sören slowly began pushing the dildo inside Craig. His cock throbbed, almost painful in its need as he watched Craig's passage wrap around it, taking it inch by inch. Sören began to work the dildo in and out of Craig, slowly and gently, going out of his mind with lust at the sight of it, and the way Craig panted and moaned, fists grabbing the sheets.  
  
At last Sören got on his hands and knees and positioned himself behind Craig, ass to ass. It took him a couple of tries to line up just right, but at last he felt the tip of the double dildo against his opening and he pushed his hips back and back and back, taking it. He let out a hiss through his teeth as the long, thick dildo stretched him, and moaned at that feeling of being filled.  
  
He and Craig began the push and pull, fucking back and forth. The lewd, obscene sound of their asses slapping together as the fuck got more intense drove Sören wild, rocking his hips even harder. It felt so shameless, so wanton, the two of them fucking each other and being fucked at the same time, and as badly as Sören needed to come he couldn't get enough, completely lost in that depraved, debauched feeling where the only thing that mattered was the cock working between their hungry holes.  
  
Sören felt himself on that edge again, trembling, panting, gasping for breath. Before he could come he stopped, and pushed the dildo out of him. He quickly turned around and pulled the dildo out of Craig's ass. Craig looked over his shoulder, eyes glazed. "Wha..."  
  
"Lie on your back."  
  
Craig did as he was told. Sören pushed the dildo back into Craig's ass and then repositioned himself, also laying on his back, scooting up so their holes were close and aligned. Sören guided the dildo to his opening and worked his hips to take it back inside. He sat up a little and began stroking himself, looking across at Craig who also began frantically jerking himself off.  
  
Their hips rocked violently as they fucked the dildo harder and harder, watching each other stroke. Sören bit his lip, trying to hold back, the tension building, exquisite. Their eyes met and Craig let out a whimper just before he gasped, "I'm gonna come."  
  
"Yes." Sören growled. "Come for me, pet. Shoot all over me..."  
  
Craig cried out and did as he was told, aiming his cock, an arc of cum spurting over Sören's body, then another, then another. Sören gave a hoarse shout as he climaxed, and then a deep grunt as the pleasure continued to throb through him, coming and coming, seed splashing his stomach, then shooting onto Craig's cock, making Craig spurt again. Craig groaned, shuddering. Sören moaned softly as he contracted again, and laughed at the flood of bliss, the _relief_ washing over him. "Oh, _fuck._ "  
  
"God." Craig laughed too. "Jesus."  
  
Sören lay there for a moment, dazed, feeling like his legs were spaghetti. When he could move again he sat up, and climbed over to get next to Craig. They held each other and Sören rained kisses over his face. "That's a good boy." He kissed the tip of Craig's nose. "That's my good boy."  
  
"That was fun." Craig stroked Sören's cheek. "Thank you for taking good care of me."  
  
Sören pulled Craig closer, gave him a tight squeeze. "Thank you for being mine to take care of."  
  
Sören's orgasm was shattering enough that he drifted off. He woke up awhile later to a weight on the bed, and opened his eyes to see the blue glow of the nightlight; Craig had tucked them both in and Kylie was curling up at the foot of the bed. Sören smiled before he snuggled deeper into the covers, closer to Craig. Craig kissed his brow and pet his curls. Then Craig began to rub Sören's back. The sound of the falling rain outside, the cozy cuddles and covers, and the backrub made Sören sigh with contentment, involuntarily flexing his toes and fingers. "That's nice," Sören mumbled.  
  
"Good." Craig nuzzled him. He continued rubbing Sören's back and just before Sören could go back to sleep, Craig asked, "Hey, Sören?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
Craig exhaled. "Don't get mad at me for asking this, OK, but... why don't you try to work things out with Nicholas?"  
  
Sören's eyes opened. The warm, safe, peaceful moment splintered away to reveal the raw heartbreak that had only gotten temporary relief. "Oh god."  
  
"I'm sorry. I just..." Craig frowned. "I hate to see you so sad. You take good care of me, but... Nicholas takes care of you. You guys were good together. You need him -"  
  
"What I _need_ ," Sören said, hating the edge in his voice - not wanting his sensitive boy to feel attacked, but not able to help it, "is to be _respected._ I don't know how much you know about the falling out we had..."  
  
"I know it was about that rock you found in Iceland."  
  
Sören bristled; for some reason he hated the stone being called a "rock". He went on. "It has deep personal significance to me and isn't the sort of thing I can just replace. He wants me to give it to a museum. He acts like my feelings don't matter. He acted like our flat is just his and I was just a guest. I don't know what there is to be worked out, because he's not going to budge on his position, and I'm not going to compromise and let him take the stone away from me."  
  
"I'm not saying that you should give it away. I understand why you're keeping it. I have things of sentimental value you can pry from my cold, dead hands. But maybe if you had more talks with him about it - calmer, and perhaps with the help of someone skilled in mediation, like... Anthony's a lawyer - Nicholas might start to see your perspective better."  
  
Sören scowled. He fought the urge to get up, put his clothes on, and leave. "The thing is... I have tried to talk to him about it. Several times. The reason why I finally left is because it was the last straw."  
  
"Like I said, maybe if you had a mediator -"  
  
"Craig? Drop it. Now." Sören could feel his fists clenching, his body tensing. He tried not to be angry with him - he knew Craig meant well and was trying to help - but he could feel his anger flaring. Anytime the suggestion of dealing with Nicholas again would be unwelcome, but especially right now, when he had been truly and deeply relaxed after carrying the weight of his grief and pain for weeks.  
  
"I'm sorry." Craig kissed his cheek. "I didn't mean to upset you..."  
  
"I know." Sören tried to adjust his body language, make it less defensive, not wanting Craig to feel bad. It was easier said than done - just thinking about that final argument again had his heart racing. "You're a good boy." Sören patted him. "But please... let me deal with this on my own. Please don't try to 'help' where Nick is concerned."  
  
"OK." Craig started rocking him. "I'm sorry."  
  
 _Me too._ Sören closed his eyes.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören had an early Saturday morning at the National, which he wasn't happy about, but such things couldn't be helped. Craig drove him to work, and they lingered in the parking lot with tender kisses, and Sören promising to be better about not withdrawing and disappearing into the void of his grief for weeks at a time.  
  
When Sören's shift was over in the late afternoon, he walked home from work - the National wasn't that far from the neighborhood in Covent Garden where Nicholas and Anthony both lived. It was drizzling, and walking in the rain was usually soothing. But Sören had that lingering feeling of sadness from the fraught conversation yesterday... as well as a sense of dread, like the other shoe was going to drop. Some of the time that feeling turned out to be for nothing, a symptom of Sören's PTSD - when he felt happy or relaxed, his brain started to worry that meant something was about to go wrong. But sometimes it was indeed an internal warning system, and it was frustrating to not know the difference between PTSD hypervigilance and intuitive cues.  
  
Now as Sören started down his street, he saw Nicholas's building... and Nicholas coming out of it, in a dapper black trenchcoat and fedora. It was a Saturday afternoon and Nicholas often went grocery shopping on Saturdays, so Sören knew he couldn't be entirely surprised, but it was still an unwelcome shock to see Nicholas heading towards him. Sören thought about crossing the street to avoid him, but he would have to cross again when he reached Anthony's building. He swallowed hard and kept walking, hoping Nicholas might duck back into his building and wait for Sören to pass, but Nicholas did no such thing. He did, however, pause, watching Sören march forward, and when they were a few feet apart Sören paused as well and they spent a minute just looking at each other in awkward silence.  
  
Finally Nicholas tipped his hat. "Sören. Hello."  
  
"Hi," Sören said, his voice stony and cold.  
  
Nicholas looked Sören up and down with something like longing in his eyes. "How are you?"  
  
Sören gave a bitter laugh. "Like you care."  
  
"I _do_ care." Nicholas sighed. "I care more than you know."  
  
"You have a fucking funny way of showing it." Sören shook his head and sneered, feeling the anger boil all over again. He folded his arms. "Unless you're here to tell me you're wrong and you're finally going to stop riding my ass about the stone, don't give me that 'I care about you' shit."  
  
Nicholas's nostrils flared. "I still stand by my position. It belongs in a museum. But -"  
  
"You belong in a museum," Sören huffed, and continued marching on, heart pounding in his ears.  
  
He realized as he got a few paces that he might have hurt Nicholas's feelings - Nicholas got a bit touchy about "old people" jokes, and had occasionally wondered if their age difference was fair to Sören. Sören had never had a problem with Nicholas being thirty-six years his senior - he had liked having a "daddy". Sören knew he had passed a certain level of anger to make a snarky remark about Nicholas's age, and for a brief instant he thought about turning around and apologizing for it. But the fact that Nicholas was still so convinced he had the morally superior position with wanting the stone to be turned in to a museum, made him too angry to care. _He would rather pat himself on the ass about his ideals, than be with me._ Sören's fists clenched and hot tears stung his eyes. He walked as quickly as he could to Anthony's building, just shy of running away.  
  
When he got up to Anthony and Geir's flat, he knew Geir would be gone either at orchestral practice or the gym, but he was surprised that Anthony was gone as well. Anthony left a note on the kitchen counter: _I went out with Mum for coffee at three PM. I'll be back later._ A doodled heart.  
  
That was just as well, because Sören could feel the tears coming on and even though Anthony had been _so good_ about comforting him, all patience and understanding in the trial of Sören's grief, Sören still felt guilty about Anthony seeing him this fucked up, knowing it had to be difficult for Anthony when his job was so stressful and Anthony frequently had cases where emotions ran high - home was his place to unwind, and Sören was often wound up. Sören washed his hands, and instead of his usual after-work cup of coffee and putting his feet up for a bit, he immediately changed out of his scrubs and into pajamas, grabbed his blue bunny Bláberja and Tony the tiger, and crawled into bed. As soon as the covers were pulled up around him, Sören gave into his tears, keening, howling, crying so hard it felt like bleeding out. He hated that seeing Nicholas could wreck him like this - he still loved Nicholas, and there was part of him that wanted so badly for Nicholas to just apologize and welcome him home. But he couldn't pull himself together, as much as it offended his pride to cry like this, so brokenly.  
  
"I hate you," Sören screamed into his pillows. "I HATE YOU!"  
  
 _I hate that I love you._  
  
At last, exhausted, Sören had cried himself to sleep.  
  
  
_  
  
He is twelve again, living with his aunt Katrín and his uncle Einar. He is a sad, brooding, withdrawn boy - he gets bullied in school as the runty, asthmatic nerd who's no good at sports, the sensitive one who cries and gets picked on even more. When he comes home he gets bullied by his aunt and uncle, especially if they're drunk.  
  
He escapes through art. He loves to draw. He wants to be able to paint, but there is never any money for art supplies. Einar is frequently between jobs, getting fired for coming into work drunk or hungover and starting incidents with other employees or his bosses. Einar and Katrín spend a lot of their money on alcohol, and going on holiday together to make up after one of their blowouts, leaving the kids alone to fend for themselves. They don't go on holiday enough for Sören's liking, wishing they would just disappear for good.  
  
He takes different routes home from school to evade the packs of boys who like to chase him and beat him up. One day he is walking home and finds some used furniture - worn, shabby-looking but still serviceable - on the roadside in front of a house, and a few cardboard boxes. Most of what's in the boxes doesn't interest him, books he's already read or that don't look interesting, old records and even some 8-tracks and cassette tapes... but one of the boxes that says _Ókeypis_ is like finding the holy grail. There are unused canvases and blank sketchbooks, including a blank book of watercolor paper. A box of colored pencils. A box of oil pastels, some of which are worn down to nubs but still have life in them. Boxes of used watercolors and oil paints that were lightly used. Sören lets out a happy squeak, picks up the box, and carries it home.  
  
Einar and Katrín go on another one of their benders and for days they don't notice; Sören is also careful to hide the box in his closet when not in use. But then one afternoon he's painting with the watercolors and Katrín is home much earlier than expected. Sören jumps when he sees her standing in the doorway.  
  
"What is that?" Katrín asks in a flat tone of voice.  
  
"I... ah."  
  
"Where did you get that? You don't have any money to buy something like that."  
  
"Well, no." Sören doesn't want to answer; he knows any and every answer is the wrong answer.  
  
"Answer me. Did you steal it?"  
  
" _No._ " Sören is aghast. "I found a box on the sidewalk, it said 'Free'..."  
  
"Oh, did it? So you just took it, like some trash-picking beggar?"  
  
Sören finds this bitterly ironic, considering he wears neighbors' kids' castoffs, neighbors who know what Katrín and Einar are like but don't want to get involved. Even though he knows what's going to happen, he can't stop himself from answering back. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe if you didn't drink so much there would be money for things and we wouldn't have to live like this?"  
  
"I've had enough of your smart mouth, boy." Katrín marches over and backhands Sören. His hand instinctively goes to his stinging cheek. His heart pounds, and he freezes, not able to run away. His eyes start to fill with tears and his fists clench - he does not want to give her the satisfaction of making her cry. She is determined, and reaches out to slap him again. He ducks. She grabs him by the hair and the dodge brings out the fury in her. She hits him again and again, shoves him onto the floor and kicks him. She takes the paint set from the desk, throws it on the floor, and wet paint splatters everywhere. She pours the cup of water over Sören's face. "Now you clean this mess up, and you put your garbage in the trash where it belongs." She storms out, muttering "Wait until your uncle gets home."  
  
Sören lays there on the floor for a few minutes, dazed, his mind going somewhere else. He comes back to himself when he hears his aunt slamming things around in the kitchen. He quickly gets up and starts cleaning up the paint set and the spilled water... and crying. Feeling his dreams die.  
  
He expects Einar to beat him when Einar gets home, something Einar has done hundreds of times by now, enough where Sören frequently has welts under his clothes, has scars on his back. But Einar does something even worse this time.  
  
"I hear you went picking in the trash," Einar says.  
  
Sören doesn't answer. He _can't_ answer, too afraid to speak.  
  
Einar looks him up and down with utter contempt. "Jæja. Well, if you like trash so much, tonight you can _be_ trash."  
  
It is February and bitter cold. Sören is forced to sit outside all night in a dumpster in the city, shivering, covering himself with filthy, smelly garbage to try and stay warm. For weeks he can't get the smell out of his outerwear, even after washing it several times. For months he has a panic attack every time he sees a dumpster.  
  
He does not paint again for years.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören woke up crying, and Anthony was right there, petting him, rocking him. "Shhhh, sweetheart. It's OK. It's all right." Anthony stroked Sören's face, his own eyes too bright, full of concern. "You had a bad dream, love. You're here with me."  
  
"Oh god." Sören sobbed. "It was a flashback."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Sören pursed his lips. "You know... my guardians, being... themselves."  
  
"Anything specific?"  
  
Anthony was good - he knew it was somehow connected to all of this mess. _Goddamn barrister._ Sören sighed and looked away, shaking with another burst of tears as his mind's eye replayed the dream... the memory. "When I was twelve I found a box of art supplies on the sidewalk with some other junk. I took it home and my aunt and uncle gave me hell. Called me a trash picker. Made me throw it away." He decided to spare Anthony the detail of having to sit out all night in the freezing cold in a dumpster.  
  
" _Jesus._ " Anthony covered his eyes with the palm of his hand and then his hand slid down to cover his mouth; Sören saw his jaw trembling, saw the tears start to spill.  
  
"I'm sorry." Sören looked down. "I know that's upsetting -"  
  
Anthony reached out, pulled Sören close, and held him tight. He resumed petting Sören's curls. "This is part of why it bothers you that Nicholas wants you to give up the stone, isn't it?"  
  
"Part." And Sören sobbed harder, hating that the hurt boy inside him was somehow comparing Nicholas to those monsters. Nicholas wasn't a monster, just a stubborn and somewhat out-of-touch old man. But Sören's inner child was defiant. _I found it. It's mine. No one is taking anything away from me ever again._ Sören's entire adult life had been characterized by austerity - he'd moved from Iceland to England with almost all his worldly possessions able to fit into one suitcase, and with the exception of his artwork he hadn't accumulated much more since then. That had become a habit when Einar and Katrín had a tendency of throwing away and destroying his things; even when he was an adult and had moved away, he couldn't let himself just own things, in case he lost them again. The stone was one of his small hoard of things he allowed himself to have, and Nicholas wanted to take it away. Even without the dreams of the stone, the way it felt like _his_ , Sören found himself panicking about it. It wasn't like Nicholas didn't know at least some of Sören's issues with possessions - it had been he who had sewn Sören's bunny back together after Einar ripped it up.  
  
"God, Sören." Anthony kissed Sören's tears. Then Anthony took Sören's chin in his hand and looked into his eyes. "I promise you as long as you stay with me, I will never ask you to send the stone away to a museum or other facility. OK? It's yours."  
  
"Thank you." Sören squeezed him and patted his back. Sören already got the sense Anthony had that position but it was comforting to hear him state it explicitly.  
  
"It's yours... and you're mine." Anthony kissed the tip of his nose. "It would take a lot more than arguing over a stone to get me to give up on you."  
  
Sören broke down sobbing again. Anthony pulled Sören against his chest and let him cry. "I'm here, love," Anthony whispered, his own voice shaking; Sören knew he was crying too, crying for him, and Anthony didn't even know all of the horror. "I'm here."  
  
"Don't go," Sören wept. "Don't let me go."  
  
"Never ever." Anthony pulled back a little and attempted a smile. He started singing, " _We're no strangers to love..._ "  
  
"OH GOD." Sören facepalmed and laughed despite himself. _This_ was one reason why they worked so well together - Anthony was just as much of a dork as he was.  
  
" _You know the rules and so do I..._ "  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
" _A full commitment's what I'm thinking of, you wouldn't get this from any other guy... I just want to tell you how I'm feeling, gotta make you understand..._ "  
  
Sören and Anthony sang together. " _Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down..._ "


	5. The Ties That Bind

It was Friday, February third, the day before Anthony's thirty-seventh birthday. Tomorrow morning, Anthony, Sören and Geir would be taking the train out to Brighton for the weekend, staying at Anthony's parents' holiday house. Nicholas had a key and would be checking in on the cats while they were gone.  
  
Sören had been staying with him for over a month now, and while Anthony didn't mind in the slightest, he had hoped for Sören and Nicholas's sake that they would both cool down within a few weeks and get back together. His hopes for their reconciliation were starting to die, especially as what would have been Sören and Nicholas's two-year anniversary, on Valentine's Day, approached. Late last year Sören and Nicholas had made plans to visit Iceland together from February seventeenth to twenty-fifth this year - Nicholas was originally supposed to go with Sören in August last year, and Nicholas had ceded to Anthony instead, since Anthony and Sören were newly back together and Nicholas wanted to be charitable; Nicholas then made plans to go with Sören for their anniversary and see the Northern Lights. Anthony had wondered since Sören and Nicholas's breakup if Nicholas might be less insistent that the stone go to a museum if he'd been there when Sören found it, and had seen the awe on Sören's face - which to Anthony, was as beautiful as the stone itself. Sören was still brooding about the breakup, which was to be expected as it hadn't been terribly long, but that brooding was intensifying as the anniversary came closer and it was looking very likely that the trip to Iceland with Nicholas wasn't happening. It had been Geir who suggested Brighton to celebrate Anthony's birthday, and Anthony knew that was just as much for Sören, since he and Sören had made so many happy memories there.  
  
But first, Anthony had to get through a day of court. He was glad they weren't going to Brighton till tomorrow, because he felt absolutely done for when he stepped out of the courthouse. He thrived on the adrenaline of the courtroom, but he couldn't deny it was difficult, and though he hadn't struggled with substance abuse himself he wasn't surprised at all that barristers had a disproportionately high rate of alcohol and drug problems. This was one of those days where he'd want a few drinks if he wasn't on an antidepressant; now he just wanted a hot shower and a nap.  
  
He usually rode to and from work with his assistant, Diana Traynor, a younger black woman who lived a couple streets away from him in Covent Garden, with whom he had a cordial working relationship. She had pulled up so he wouldn't have far to walk, on his cane, and he waved at her; she waved back.  
  
"Here," she said, handing him a cup from Starbucks once he'd settled in the passenger seat. "I thought you could use this."  
  
"Brilliant, thank you." Though he knew the jolt of caffeine was the opposite of winding down, the hazelnut latte was soothing.  
  
Diana started to drive. One of the reasons why they got on well was Diana seemed to understand Anthony's aversion to small talk, and the need for quiet space immediately after work. When Anthony had lived in Kingston, before his post-accident PTSD made him unable to drive, Anthony used to use the commute home to mellow out. But a few minutes into the drive from the courthouse, Anthony noticed a small package wrapped in blue-and-green plaid paper, with a tasteful darker blue foil bow, sitting in the cupholder between them. Diana observed his notice and said, "Yes, that's for you. Go on."  
  
Just before Anthony could take the package, his phone went off. Diana gave a nod, understanding he needed to take the call. Anthony reached for his phone and answered on the second ring - the number was unfamiliar. "Anthony Hewlett-Johnson," he said, all professional formality, hoping this wouldn't be work-related when he just wanted to relax after a day in court.  
  
"Anthony. Hi. It's Karen. Am I calling at a bad time?"  
  
"Karen!" Anthony couldn't believe it. She hadn't phoned or e-mailed in months - Anthony had written their friendship off when the holidays came and went and there had been no reply to a polite e-mail asking her how she was doing; he'd subsequently deleted her phone number from his contacts. "Well, this is sort of a bad time, yes, but... it's fine. What's going on?" Anthony felt himself frowning. "Why haven't you kept in touch?" He couldn't deny feeling stung, and he knew it was worse for Geir and Sören and Nicholas, who had been much closer.  
  
Karen gave a nervous laugh. "First, let me wish you a happy birthday. It's tomorrow, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, it's tomorrow. I'm turning thirty-seven."  
  
"Old man."  
  
Anthony snorted; both Karen and Sören were four and a half years his junior. "It won't be too much longer before you're over the hill too, you know."  
  
"Oh believe me... I know." Karen sighed. "OK, Anthony, I'll make this quick since you said it's sort of a bad time and I don't want to keep you. I'm very sorry that I haven't kept in touch, and I don't want to make excuses for myself, but within a couple of months after moving back to Sheffield, my mum died. She threw a blood clot and had a pulmonary embolism."  
  
"Oh, _shit._ " Anthony's jaw dropped. He knew from his own experience that grief could make a person antisocial, wanting to hide away for months. "I'm so, so sorry, Karen. Are... are you all right?" And now there was some additional explanation for why Ben and Pierre had been keeping their distance, as well. "Is Ben all right? I haven't heard much from him."  
  
"Ben isn't doing great, but he's doing better than I am. Because there's more."  
  
"Oh god." Losing one's parent was traumatic enough, if there had been more... Anthony swallowed hard, thinking of losing his beloved gran a mere two months after the car accident he was in that left him in permanent need of a cane. Anthony braced himself, not knowing what to expect, only that it was going to be bad.  
  
"I started drinking a bit too much after Mum passed on. I realized pretty early on I had a problem, but I was too fucked up in the head to try to do anything about it. And part of why I kept away for as long as I did is, you know. Craig. I didn't want him to think I'm a bloody hypocrite."  
  
"That's understandable. Though, Craig seems like a nice kid. I think he'd get it that you were having a hard time. Truth be told, it's amazing _I_ haven't gone down that road, in my line of work." Anthony paused, feeling that twinge of apprehension, like they hadn't hit the worst part of the conversation yet. "So... are you still drinking? Are you getting some help?"  
  
"That's actually why I'm calling. I've been in a rehab center and my twenty-one days is almost up and I'll be going home soon. I wanted to hold off until I was done with the program, so I could say I had at least this much sober time."  
  
"Congratulations. I'm proud of you." Anthony was sincere; he knew from his own experience with therapy that accepting help was hard to do. "What made you decide to get treatment?"  
  
"I was in a car accident."  
  
Anthony's heart sank. His stomach turned to ice. He had a very, very bad feeling about what he would likely hear next. "You... were drinking."  
  
"Yes. It was my fault."  
  
In his mind's eye, Anthony revisited the crash, the McLaren running the red light and smashing into his Audi. The windshield shattering, spraying everywhere as his car spun out of control, and he slammed into the airbag, feeling the shards pelt his skin. Then he remembered his flat in Kingston being bricked, the threats from people who said he "killed" Justin Roberts when the footballer had been driving intoxicated.  
  
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Part of him that usually had compassion on people who made bad choices - like his clients - felt sorry for her, knowing her grief had turned into a full-blown mental illness and she drank to self-medicate, and he definitely could have gone down the path of substance abuse himself, years ago. But the part of him that was still traumatized by the accident, still angry that he could no longer drive without having a panic attack, still angry that he could no longer run, could no longer have sex in certain positions, angry that he needed to use a wheelchair to mobilize long distances like an airport... knew that whatever else Karen said about the accident, their friendship was officially over. He had written their friendship off weeks ago, and then when the conversation started hope for being friends again had flowered for just an instant. But now, even though she had apologized, he knew there was no going back. She knew his history, she'd seen him a few short months after the accident - and she still chose to get on the road while intoxicated.  
  
Anthony thought about hanging up on her, but for Sören's sake, for Geir's, for Nicholas's, for Craig's, he made himself stay on the phone. "Was anyone hurt." He heard the cool formality return to his voice now, felt himself shut off the same way he did in the courtroom, to keep from getting caught in the maelstrom when cases got complex and emotions ran high. "Did anyone die."  
  
"No, I just ran into a tree. Before you ask, I wasn't badly hurt. I was very lucky - just a couple broken ribs, whiplash, concussion. I'm on the mend now."  
  
"Good," Anthony said. _You fucking bitch._ His fist was clenching in his lap despite his efforts to stay calm. Diana gave him a concerned look; Anthony quickly looked away, and took a deep breath. "So... shall I pass on the news to the others?"  
  
"If you don't mind. I'd be happy to entertain visitors if anyone wants to come up to Sheffield and see me over the next few weeks or so."  
  
"I'll pass along that message as well." Anthony decided to just be honest with her, feeling the adrenaline surge again after the flood of relief when he walked out of the courtroom; his heart was pounding. Anthony's jaw set. _You had the audacity to drive drunk after what happened to me, and you're trying to make nice and be friends. No, FUCK YOU._ It didn't matter to him that nobody was hurt - someone very damn well could have gotten hurt. "Karen, I'm not coming to see you, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't ring me again after this. I think it should probably be obvious why I'm saying so."  
  
"It is. I knew you'd probably take it badly, considering your own acc-"  
  
Anthony didn't let her finish. "Going forward if you have any news, please ring Geir or Sören or even Nicholas. I'm honestly surprised you didn't tell them first, since we weren't as close as you were with them."  
  
"No, but I thought the news might be delivered a bit better by you, since you're a professional and difficult conversations are your job."  
  
"Fair." Anthony rubbed his face like an annoyed wet cat. "I'm glad you're OK, I hope you stay sober. But this is goodbye."  
  
"Goodbye, Anthony." Karen hung up.  
  
For a moment Anthony just sat there with his phone in his hand, feeling dazed. He realized he was shaking a little - he was starting to feel nauseated, his accident playing in his mind again - when Diana said, "You OK?"  
  
"No," Anthony answered honestly, knowing she'd heard enough.  
  
Diana nodded. "I'm sorry. She was a friend of yours?"  
  
"Yeah. She's known me since my diploma group. We weren't friends then." Anthony laughed bitterly. "She didn't like me much." _In hindsight, she probably sensed my bullshit detector._ He knew, of course, that wasn't why - she thought he was an overprivileged know-it-all with annoying friends. But part of him did wonder if subconsciously she knew he was someone she'd eventually run afoul of.  
  
Anthony felt like he was possibly being a judgmental asshole - he _knew_ grief was hard, he knew people made bad choices when they were depressed... he was living proof of that, with his one-time indiscretion with Sören years ago. But she knew about his accident, she knew how deeply it had scarred him mentally, and she still drove while drunk, she could have killed someone. Whether or not he was being too hard on her, Anthony couldn't forgive that, and he didn't think it did her recovery any favors to act like what she did was OK and there would be no consequences.  
  
And now, he was put in the difficult position of potentially looking like a self-righteous prick when he relayed the information to Geir and Sören and would also have to tell them he wasn't going to visit Karen himself. That made him angry, too. Anthony could barely see straight, his head swimming in the fever of indignation.  
  
"I don't blame you for not wanting to associate with a drunk driver, after what happened to you." Diana put a reassuring hand on his arm, and patted him. She handed his coffee back to him, which was still warm; he mumbled his thanks. "I just hope you'll be able to have a good birthday this weekend."  
  
"Thanks. I'm going to try. I'm going to Brighton with my boyfriend." He decided to leave out _and our friend-with-benefits._ While he and Diana were warm, he still felt there needed to be a modicum of professionalism there, she didn't need to know about his sex life and he didn't need to know about hers.  
  
"Oh! What a coincidence!" Diana's face lit up. "My boyfriend is taking me there too."  
  
"Oh, really?" Anthony smiled. "Do you... want to get coffee or lunch or something over the weekend?"  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
"So, who is the lucky fellow?" Even though Anthony was gay, he liked Diana as a person and felt like she would make any heterosexual man very happy.  
  
"You already know him, I believe. Lawrence Okonkwo."  
  
Anthony's jaw dropped. Lawrence had been part of his former friends group, and one of the people to ghost him after his accident in 2015. He and Lawrence had made jokes about being the token minority in their circle of friends - Anthony was the token gay, Lawrence was the token black - but after everything the jokes felt less like jokes and more like reality; his former friends group had been fairly conservative-leaning and Anthony often wondered if he and Lawrence had both been politely tolerated for the sake of looking not prejudiced, but never really accepted. Lawrence had been the least bad out of his old crowd, and for that reason Anthony had felt the most disappointment when Lawrence wasn't returning his calls, compared to the others. He'd hoped from time to time that Lawrence had found better people to associate with. Diana was a step in the right direction, but... he was very nervous about the prospect of seeing Lawrence again, after all this time - and that was without factoring in Sören's reaction; Anthony's old friends group was anathema to Sören, and rightly so. Anthony almost wanted to back out of the offer of getting a bite to eat together, but he knew that would sound rude. "Yes, I know him," Anthony said, keeping his tone even and neutral while his stomach churned.  
  
"Maybe late Sunday morning, early Sunday afternoon, brunch before we all head back?"  
  
"Sure." Anthony nodded, trying to keep smiling even though he felt like he was chewing broken glass. _Fuck me. First Karen, now this._  
  
"Excellent." Diana's gaze returned to the road. "See, already this weekend's gotten a little better, hasn't it?"  
  
"Indeed." _Fuck. Shit. Bugger. Bloody fucking hell._  
  
  
_  
  
  
Sören was already home, and greeted him at the door with a hug and a kiss, and took off Anthony's wig, petting it. Anthony squeezed him, and before Sören could ask how he was, Anthony immediately walked off as fast as he could - which wasn't very fast at all - to let himself in the bathroom, where he promptly threw up.  
  
He caught his breath, rinsed his mouth, washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face to try to ground himself. His heart was still hammering away, feeling hot, searing rage that Karen had gotten behind the wheel of a car while under the influence. He was also angry with himself for offering to have a meal with Diana and her boyfriend without asking first who it was, in case it was anyone in London's professional community that he wanted to avoid. Anthony felt like an idiot, and like this weekend was ruined before it had even started.  
  
There was a gentle knock on the bathroom door. " _Elskan_ , are you OK? I heard barf noises."  
  
The way Sören said "barf", with the gently trilled r, made Anthony chuckle. "Yeah, I'm... I'm." He couldn't say "fine" honestly. He opened the bathroom door.  
  
"What happened?" Sören raised an eyebrow, all worried brown eyes.  
  
Anthony sighed. He wanted to save the news of Karen for when Geir was home too, since this directly concerned him, with Karen and Geir having been best friends for awhile, but Sören was in doctor mode now and wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily. "Come on," Anthony said, stepping out and gesturing down the hall. "Let's sit down."  
  
Sören paced behind him slowly, almost hesitant. Anthony had a feeling Sören was having anxiety about whether or not he was in trouble, if they "needed to talk" - Sören had been understandably paranoid since the breakup with Nicholas - so Anthony stopped in his tracks and when Sören caught up alongside him, he put his free arm around Sören's waist. Sören gave a shy but nervous little smile, and to try to offset the tension, and help Sören to know he wasn't the problem, Anthony's hand slid down to grope Sören's ass. Sören giggled and wiggled his ass into Anthony's touch. Anthony gave him a playful ass slap before they sat down.  
  
Much to his surprise and relief, Geir was home too, coming downstairs. "Hi," Geir said.  
  
"Oh good, you're home," Anthony said. "I have some news."  
  
Geir folded his arms. "Ja? Is it bad? Should I make tea?"  
  
"It's bad, and tea is always welcome," Anthony said, "but before either of you freak out, we're still on for Brighton. That's not changed."  
  
Geir made tea, and when it was ready Geir sat down across from Sören and Anthony. Seumas and Miss Balls came out for pettings, and Anthony felt himself relax a little when Seumas climbed onto his shoulder, comforting and familiar. "I got a call from Karen," Anthony said.  
  
Geir's eyebrows shot up. Sören's mouth opened.  
  
"Is she all right?" Sören asked.  
  
"In a manner of speaking. She... explained why she fell out of touch, and it's not good." Anthony frowned and sipped his tea.  
  
"I'm surprised she called you and not me," Geir said, brow furrowed.  
  
"Yeah. Well... she asked me to pass on the news. So here it is. Her mum died not long after she moved north. Threw a clot. Karen started drinking, and ended up driving drunk, driving into a tree. She's been in rehab. She's about to get out of rehab and is requesting visitors." Anthony pursed his lips. "I'm... not going to visit her."  
  
Sören put his tea down. "Wait, _what?_ She... she was in a drunk driving accident?"  
  
"According to her no one was hurt. She wasn't too seriously injured, just broken ribs, a concussion, whiplash. Got off easier than I did. But... she could have killed or seriously hurt someone, and I told her not to ring me after this. I'm not going to tell you whether or not to re-establish friendship with her, you're grown adults, but -"  
  
"But you're pissed off she drove drunk, after what happened to you." Sören nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's OK. You have a right to feel angry. I'm... not thrilled with that either. My aunt and uncle were alcoholics."  
  
 _As you know,_ Anthony thought to himself but didn't say it aloud, not wanting to remind Sören of Nicholas; this conversation was fraught enough.  
  
Sören went on, "I know I sound like I'm being too hard on her considering Craig overdosed twice, but... Craig also didn't get in an accident when he was using. He told me he at least had enough sense not to get behind the wheel when he was fucked up. The fact that she went down this path after what happened with Craig, that she drove drunk when she knows about your accident..." Sören shook his head. "I... I don't think I can deal with her anymore either."  
  
Anthony blinked in surprise and relief. "Thank you for understanding. I worried you would think I was being unfair, too judgmental..."  
  
Sören shook his head. "She hasn't talked to me in months. I know she has an excuse, it's been hard after her mother died, but..." Sören shrugged. "It's better to let the past stay past, I think."  
  
Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it. He knew because Sören and Karen had once been involved, this was still hard on him - Sören loved fiercely, and he didn't think Sören was capable of ever completely ceasing to love someone. Anthony found himself angry now not just for his sake, but Sören's.  
  
Geir sighed. He put his tea down and buried his face in his hands for a moment. When he looked up, he facepalmed, and slid his hand down his face, looking like he was in pain. "Wow. Just... wow."  
  
"Yeah." Anthony nodded. "It's a lot."  
  
Geir leaned back in his chair. "I respect that both of you want to cut her off. I get it. But even though she fucked up, I wouldn't feel right abandoning her myself. She... you know, she was like family."  
  
"Like I said, I'm not going to tell you to be done with her." Anthony found himself bristling slightly that Geir _was_ going to still keep in contact with her, which felt vaguely disloyal in the face of his accident and trauma, but he also knew feelings didn't work on an on-off switch and Geir still cared about her. "I won't give you shit about remaining friends with her if you don't give me shit about... not."  
  
"No, it's... it's fine." Geir picked up his tea and resumed drinking it. "You've both got good reasons. I don't have those same reasons. I still miss her. I miss her a lot, actually." Geir's eyes were too bright.  
  
Anthony felt a twinge of compassion, and annoyance with himself for being mildly disgruntled that Geir was still going to be friends with her. He knew Geir didn't have family, and didn't have much in the way of friends. He didn't want to take that away.  
  
"You OK?" Sören gave Geir a sympathetic look. "Even as pissed off as I am, I'm still..." Sören took a deep breath, and Anthony glanced over and saw Sören was trying not to cry himself. "I still care about her, I just... can't. I can't deal with that kind of chaos, especially not now after..." Sören's voice trailed off; he didn't need to explain. He went on, "It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt to know she's been doing so badly."  
  
"It does." Geir nodded. He covered his eyes for a moment, another look of pain on his face. When he pulled his hand back, silent tears spilled down his cheeks. "It hurts. I wish she had reached out to us. _Something._ "  
  
"She felt like a hypocrite considering her involvement in Craig's recovery." Anthony frowned and sipped his tea. "Which is another unfortunate part of this equation. Someone needs to break it to Craig. This is part of why Ben hasn't been around, either, so Craig needs to know it's not just him."  
  
"I'll do it," Geir said. "Craig and I are going swimming at the gym on Monday night. I'll talk to him then. He can shoot me if he's going to shoot the messenger."  
  
"Good luck," Anthony said.  
  
Geir wiped his eyes. "So... what a way to fuck up your birthday, huh?"  
  
"It gets better," Anthony said. "My assistant, Diana, is also going to Brighton this weekend and I invited her to get together with us. She's bringing a plus-one." Anthony thought it was kinder to tell Sören now than have it be a surprise at the brunch. "Lawrence."  
  
Sören's eyes narrowed. "Lawrence."  
  
"Lawrence. Yes, that Lawrence."  
  
"I can be civil." Sören rolled his eyes before he gulped tea. "I make no guarantees if he behaves like a shit."  
  
"I'm really sorry. I made the invite before I knew it was him. I wouldn't have if..."  
  
Sören waved his hand dismissively. "When?"  
  
"Sunday, brunch. Before we head back."  
  
"Kay." Sören took another sip, glaring at the cup like it had personally offended him.  
  
Geir and Anthony exchanged glances, and Anthony could practically hear the unvoiced _Sounds like you need more luck than I do._ Anthony put an arm around Sören and kissed his cheek. "I'm very, very sorry," Anthony said, meaning it, knowing how much his former friends had hurt Sören.  
  
Sören nodded. He gave Anthony a little peck in return. "Shit happens. At least it's not Trisha or Vincente."  
  
Anthony made a face. "Or Steve."  
  
"Oh, if it was Steve I think I'd be looking forward to it," Sören said, his scowl becoming an evil grin. "Asskicking Part Two."  
  
"Electric Boogaloo," Anthony quipped before he could stop himself.  
  
"I think while you guys are at the brunch, I'll go for a run," Geir said. "Sounds like things will be awkward and I'm not sure that my being there will help."  
  
Anthony nodded. "OK." He was secretly relieved - he was sure at least Diana would be able to figure out that Geir wasn't just a friend, and he didn't want to have a talk with his assistant about polyamory anytime soon.  
  
Sören was scowling again - so much so that Anthony was tempted to ring Diana and cancel the brunch, even though he knew that would create awkwardness too. Before Sören could stew for too long, Geir raised his eyebrows and said, "Sören, can I talk to you about something for a minute?"  
  
Sören cocked his head to one side. "Jæja?"  
  
"...Alone." Geir turned to Anthony. "No offense."  
  
"None taken," Anthony said.  
  
Geir got up. "Upstairs, in private, if you don't mind?"  
  
"Did I... do something wrong?" Sören looked worried again.  
  
Geir chuckled. "No, trust me, this is nothing bad." When Sören got up, Geir took his hand and led him to the stairwell.  
  
Anthony leaned back on the couch and pinched the bridge of his nose as he finished his tea. He wondered what Geir was talking to Sören about - he hoped Geir wasn't trying to convince Sören to reconsider his stance on Karen. He decided not to dwell on it too much. Miss Balls sat on his lap, purring, and for a few minutes Anthony let himself just _be_ , feeling the adrenaline fade now that he was home and with "his people". When he put his teacup down he stroked Miss Balls, smiling as she headbutted his hand and rubbed her wet nose on it. He stopped petting for a few seconds to adjust his position and she reached with her front paws to grab his wrist and gently nibble on him. He laughed and resumed petting her, and she purred louder. "Such a good girl," Anthony said. "That's my good kitty." He enjoyed watching her content little cat smile, the way she blinked at him to show love and trust. For all of his stress earlier, his cats were good for the soul and it was almost as if today hadn't happened.  
  
Then he heard Sören's wild laughter upstairs. He felt himself sigh with relief - he hadn't heard Sören laugh like _that_ since the breakup with Nicholas, and it was so, so good to know Sören's silliness hadn't completely died. Sören still made jokes here and there, but he had been a lot quieter and more serious than usual over the last month, and hearing him laugh that way gave him hope that Sören might be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. He knew Sören would still be sad for awhile, after what happened - he expected it, he knew how much Sören loved Nicholas - but nonetheless, he'd ached for Sören to find some happiness.  
  
"I like how you think," Anthony heard Sören say.  
  
"Shhhhhh," Geir said.  
  
Sören and Geir came back downstairs. Sören tried to keep a poker face, but his eyes were full of mischief. Anthony gave him an I-know-you're-up-to-something look. Sören said nothing as he sat back down, continuing to keep up the illusion of innocence. Geir couldn't keep a straight face at all, but he was putting on outerwear now, grabbing his keys and cell phone.  
  
"I'm going to pick up takeaway," Geir said. "Any requests?"  
  
Sören and Anthony looked at each other. Anthony shrugged. "I'm flexible."  
  
"Indian, Thai, Chinese or Italian," Sören said. "If you don't mind."  
  
"No, I don't mind, that narrows it down." Geir gave the thumbs up. "I'll be back in a bit."  
  
As soon as Geir was out the door, Sören turned Anthony's body and began to give him a shoulder rub. Anthony melted into Sören's touch, giving a deep sigh as Sören's fingers and palms worked their magic, kneading away the lingering tension.  
  
"Sooooo..." Anthony glanced over his shoulder. "What's going on?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Sören blinked, continuing to feign innocence. "Nothing's going on."  
  
"Sören, you can't con me."  
  
Sören tousled Anthony's hair and kissed the top of his head before he resumed rubbing. "You'll find out this weekend."  
  
So it was birthday plans. Anthony was intrigued, wondering what Sören and Geir could possibly be planning. He stopped being able to wonder, barely able to think, as Sören pressed more firmly, rubbed harder. "Mmmf." Anthony let out a moan. "God, Sören, that's good."  
  
"Mmmmmmm, good. I want to take care of you, _elskan._ " Sören's voice was husky.  
  
Sören leaned in to kiss his cheek and then his lips slid down. Anthony moaned again, louder, as Sören began kissing and licking his neck. Anthony's cock hardened as Sören's hands moved down his back, caressing. Sören's fingers brushed down Anthony's spine and he nibbled the hollow of Anthony's neck, near the shoulder. Anthony heard himself panting, looked down at the hard bulge in his trousers. Sören reached and as one hand continued to tease Anthony's spine, the other gently rubbed the hard bulge. "We should do something about this," Sören whispered.  
  
Anthony grabbed Sören's face and kissed him. He loved kissing Sören, and for a few minutes they just kissed, tongues playing together between kisses, as Sören's hand palmed Anthony's erection through his trousers in slow, lazy circles. Anthony savored the feel of Sören's full, soft lips, the way their tongues teased. He sucked on Sören's lower lip and his mouth grazed Sören's chin, the beard tickling his lips. Their mouths met again, more fiercely than before. Sören reached around and undid Anthony's trousers, freeing his hard cock. Sören looked at it and his breath hitched, then he kissed Anthony again, and again. At last Sören dropped down on the floor on his knees in front of Anthony, eyes wicked.  
  
Anthony groaned as Sören began sucking him slowly. Their eyes locked, Sören studying his reactions. Anthony lost himself in the filthy sweetness of Sören's mouth, cock gliding in and out, Sören's mouth suctioning, tongue stroking. He found himself grabbing Sören's curls, gasping, as Sören sucked harder, faster, moaning with his mouth full. Sören got him to that edge quickly and kept him there, sucking hungrily then slowing down again, languid, loving. When Sören pulled the cock out of his mouth and licked at it, Anthony cried out, the pleasure almost too exquisite to bear. Sören's tongue lashed the sensitive frenulum, heat in his eyes. After a moment of that Sören drew the cock back into his mouth and sucked at the head, kissing it, tongue rubbing, as his hand stroked up and down the shaft. Anthony trembled, closer and closer, grabbing Sören's curls again, panting. He let out a broken cry as he came in Sören's mouth, euphoria throbbing through him. Sören swallowed down all he could - the sight of his seed spilling out of the corners of Sören's mouth, down his chin, made Anthony contract again, shooting on Sören's face. Sören laughed delightedly and licked him clean, so very sensitive. Anthony gasped and moaned, and then he laughed too as relief flooded him, weightless bliss.  
  
Sören kissed him, letting Anthony taste himself, lightly salty-sweet. "I love you," Sören husked.  
  
"I love you, sweetheart." Anthony kissed him back, and they rubbed noses, looking tenderly into each other's eyes. He felt loved, and he adored Sören, more and more each day, and especially here and now, grateful for the release, which was just what he needed. Then Anthony felt a note of concern. "Do you need me to..."  
  
"I came in my pants." Sören gave a throaty laugh.  
  
Anthony grinned, feeling deep satisfaction - it was a power trip to know he turned Sören on so much he could come untouched, just from giving him a blowjob. Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose and Sören giggled. The post-orgasmic happiness shining in Sören's eyes went right to Anthony's heart.  
  
Sören got back on the couch and held him. The cats sat nearby, purring away. Anthony snuggled into Sören's chest as Sören pet him, a moment of peace, perfect contentedness where the courtroom and Karen and Lawrence felt far away.  
  
Geir came back with the food to find them cuddling, and Anthony realized as he sat up that he still had his cock out, soft now. Geir snickered as Sören gave a guilty grin. "I see you've already had dessert," Geir said.  
  
Sören licked his lips. "And it was delicious, too."  
  
"I bet." Geir leered - Geir had tasted him dozens of times now. "You're a naughty boy, Sören."  
  
Anthony was amused by the younger Geir calling Sören "boy". Sören attempted a wink that was more of a clumsy blink - Anthony found Sören's goofiness sexy. "Very naughty," Sören said. "Not enough discipline."  
  
Geir chuckled. He and Sören exchanged conspiratorial looks and nothing else was said on that subject as Geir brought the bag of food to the kitchen and began unloading containers. Anthony deduced that they had something kinky planned for his birthday. If that was the case, that would make up for quite a lot.  
  
  
_  
  
  
It was raining and foggy when they took the train to Brighton, and the rain died down to a drizzle as they arrived. Anthony had decided to bring the wheelchair so they could do some sightseeing around town on foot, since he had a harder time walking long distances. There was a time when Anthony wouldn't have wanted to be seen in public in the wheelchair, but he was finding himself less self-conscious about it now, continuing to tell himself there was no shame in it. So after they dropped off their baggage at the beach house, he wheeled as Sören and Geir walked through the Lanes, winding in and out of different quirky shops. After the shops they went to the Royal Pavilion. It was far from Sören's first time visiting the palace, but every single time Sören gawped in fascinated horror at the excess of King George IV, the ostentatious splendor of the decor and design, and Anthony found his reactions amusing.  
  
After their little tour they went back to the beach house. Like Anthony's parents' house in Blackheath, Elaine had also designed the vacation home, but this was less grandiose, one story with a grey cobblestone exterior and saltbox roof, arched glass windows. The inside had dark hardwood floors. The open plan living room and kitchen was bright and airy, and the master bedroom was done in more subdued grey, with a glass-fronted gas fireplace and hurricane lanterns on the mantle. All the rooms had a beautiful view of the ocean, and for awhile Anthony sat between Sören and Geir on the couch and just cuddled, looking out at the sea.  
  
When they'd had some time to recuperate from the walk around Brighton, Anthony wanted to get closer to the sea. He walked on his cane, leading the way out to the rocky shore. Some people only liked going to the beach on warm, sunny summer days, and Anthony liked that too, but he thought the sea had its own beauty on overcast, gloomy days like this one, the sky silver, the sea a dark grey and choppy. It was melancholy, which fit the mood Sören had been in for awhile, and now Anthony's own mood with the news of Karen. He and Sören leaned on each other, as if in solidarity, as they watched the waves and breathed the salt air. Sören took Anthony's free hand and started tracing hearts in his palm.  
  
"Whenever I look at the tide rolling back and forth, it reminds me that life goes on," Sören said quietly.  
  
One of the things Anthony appreciated about Sören was his depth - and today those words felt like they touched his soul, a much-needed affirmation that as not-OK as everything had seemed lately, they would eventually be OK somehow. Caught up in emotion, Anthony reached up to turn Sören's face to his and spent a moment just looking at him, the brown puppydog eyes, the sweet smile, dark curls stirring in the breeze. He moved in closer and stole a kiss, soft and lingering, that quickly deepened, tongues swirling, sending heat through him. The way Sören moaned into the kiss made his cock harden, wanting to make Sören moan in other ways.  
  
But Anthony was going to have to wait awhile. Though there were plenty of restaurants in Brighton, including a cafe that wasn't far from the beach house where the food was decent, Sören wanted to make Anthony a home-cooked meal for his birthday, which Anthony found thoughtful. After they headed in from the beach, Sören and Geir took off to hit a grocery store, and Anthony decided to get a nap in. When they came back, Sören got to work on making Anthony's birthday dinner, and a cake, while Geir and Anthony curled up together on the couch to watch _My Neighbor Totoro_.  
  
When dinner was ready, Sören lit candles and lanterns around the beach house and opened a bottle of champagne. Sören had made salmon with herb roasted potatoes and grilled asparagus. The soft lighting created a nice, romantic atmosphere, and Anthony enjoyed the food - he'd always loved Sören's cooking - and the love that went into it. Anthony's birthday cake was lemon, his favorite, topped with buttercream and fresh strawberries. Anthony, Geir, and Sören took turns feeding each other forkfuls of cake, and feeding each other strawberries from on top of the cake. Sören sucked the juices off Anthony's fingers and Anthony growled, cock stirring to life again, wanting to drag Sören to the bedroom and have his way.  
  
He still had to wait. Geir did dishes, and then as they cuddled on the couch, drinking champagne, watching the flickering fire of the candles and lanterns, Sören and Geir looked at each other with mischievous grins, and then Geir cleared his throat. "Sören, remember that thing I talked about?"  
  
Sören nodded vehemently. "I've been thinking about it all day."  
  
Geir laughed softly. "It's time."  
  
Anthony sat up and was about to ask. Geir raised his palm. "Wait here," Geir told him. "I'll call you when it's ready."  
  
Waiting felt like forever. Anthony was going out of his mind with curiosity about what it could be. He'd already received gifts from Geir and Sören earlier that day. Geir had given him two tickets to a Jamiroquai concert at the Roundhouse in London at the end of March; Jamiroquai was his favorite band and tickets had sold out within seconds, which had made Anthony furious when he tried to buy them, but Geir had been very, very fast. Anthony was planning on taking Sören to the concert, which Geir had intended. Sören's gift had been a mulberry bonsai tree, non-toxic to cats, and a gift card to a gardening supply store, since Sören knew Anthony enjoyed working in his father's garden and had been helping Nicholas with his rooftop garden as well. Anthony leaned back on the couch, feeling antsy. The minutes went on and Anthony wondered what they were doing that could take so long, especially when he kept hearing Geir ask Sören, "Is this OK? Are you OK? Still OK?"  
  
At long last Geir came out and made the "come here" gesture.  
  
Anthony snuffed out the candles and lanterns, and slowly walked down to the bedroom. The sight greeting him took his breath away.  
  
The lanterns were lit on the mantle, and a fire was going in the fireplace. In the golden glow, Sören was completely nude... and from his neck down to his ankles he was bound in "steps", with a series of diamond-shaped knots going down the center - Anthony counted twelve diamonds. Sören's arms were tied behind his back, and Sören was fully erect and had a cock ring on the base of his cock, which also hugged his balls. Sören looked already almost painfully engorged, his cock and balls flushed a deep pink, beads of precum dripping.  
  
Geir turned Sören around so Anthony could look at the knotwork on the back of Sören, an even more intricate pattern of loops and knots. Then Anthony looked down and saw Sören had a buttplug in his ass; Anthony's cock jolted and throbbed at the sight of it. Geir handed Anthony the remote control, smiling, and Anthony turned it onto its lowest setting. Sören gasped and moaned.  
  
Geir turned Sören back around and Anthony looked him up and down, admiring Geir's handiwork. He knew Geir once had a Japanese boyfriend who'd taught him Shibari, to practice on the boyfriend's side partner. " _Hishi karada_ ," Geir explained, "the rope dress. Not as punishing as other positions, like the prawn tie, but still plenty of restraint."  
  
"It's lovely." Anthony thought Sören looked beautiful tied like this - most of all the look of worship in Sören's eyes, knowing this was the ultimate act of trust. His heart melted, burning with fierce love that Sören would give himself like this.  
  
"It has the potential to be a lot of fun, too." Geir put an arm around Anthony. "Shall we tease him for awhile?"  
  
"Yes." Anthony patted him, then stepped forward to give Sören a kiss. His thumb brushed a pierced nipple, and Sören whimpered into the kiss. "Brilliant idea."  
  
" _Utmerket._ " Now Geir kissed Sören too.  
  
With his height, black hair, pale complexion, pretty face and goatee, Geir looked almost like he could be Sören's brother, though Geir had straight hair he kept in a fauxhawk, and intense gas-flame-blue eyes. Geir was also a bit bulkier than Sören, since Geir spent a lot of time working out, running and swimming. Seeing the two of them kiss was very erotic to Anthony, with how similar the two men were. When the kiss broke, Sören and Geir looked into each other's eyes for a moment, breathing each other's breath, and Geir stroked Sören's cheek, tenderness and lust on his face.  
  
"Now remember to safeword if it's too much," Geir said. "I don't want you suffering with a cramp."  
  
"OK," Sören said. He glanced back over at Anthony and smiled.  
  
Geir and Anthony began to get undressed, and Geir led Anthony to the bed. They climbed on and Sören watched as they kissed. Geir and Anthony spent a long time just kissing, mouths hungry, fierce. Their hands wandered, caressing, and Anthony shivered at Geir's touch. Sören moaned, the plug purring away inside him. "You guys are so fucking hot," Sören whispered.  
  
"Mmmmm." Anthony kissed Geir again. Then he glanced over at Sören, his cock throbbing at the sight of Sören's cock dripping. "You look hot all tied up and helpless like that. Only able to just watch us, not allowed to touch yourself or come..."  
  
Sören whined.  
  
Anthony chuckled and he and Geir kissed again. And again. Geir started kissing Anthony's neck and his hand slid down from Anthony's chest to stroke his stomach, then wrapped around his cock, stroking slowly. Anthony groaned, enjoying the feel of Geir's lips and tongue on his sensitive neck, Geir's hand on his cock. He enjoyed the heat in Sören's eyes even more, the way Sören moaned as he kept watching.  
  
Geir kissed down to a nipple. Anthony clutched Geir's head, moaning as Geir lapped and sucked at one nipple, then the other. Sören whimpered, and, feeling evil, Anthony turned up the vibrating plug to the next highest setting. Sören cried out as the plug hummed. Geir went back and forth between Anthony's nipples, teasing them into aching peaks, making Anthony shudder, his breath ragged. Geir licked down Anthony's stomach, and dove down to Anthony's cock, swallowing down as much as he could, devouring. Anthony growled and grabbed Geir's hair, electrified by the way Geir bobbed up and down on his cock, greedy for it. His eyes met Sören's and Sören let out another whimper, making Anthony's cock pulse. Geir sucked hard and fast, one hand on Anthony's balls, rubbing, and the other slid up Anthony's body, rubbing his chest and stomach in circles, thumb brushing a nipple here and there.  
  
Geir pulled Anthony's cock out of his mouth and licked up and down the shaft, licked around and around the head. Geir made streamers with his tongue and Anthony's precum and Sören whined again. Anthony turned up the vibrations to the next highest setting. Sören moaned. "Oh god." Sören bit his lower lip. "Oh god, oh _fuck_..."  
  
"You wish you could taste it, don't you?" Anthony met Sören's eyes. "But you're all tied up, under my control, so I can see how far I can take it..."  
  
" _Fuck!_ "  
  
Geir resumed sucking Anthony's cock, and Anthony groaned, enjoying Geir's hot mouth. Geir rubbed his tongue as he sucked, and after a moment he focused on just the head. Anthony threw his head back and let out a strangled noise, the pleasure almost unbearable.  
  
Before Anthony could get too close to orgasm, Geir stopped sucking and kissed Anthony. They spent the next few minutes kissing and touching, as Sören watched, whimpering. Then Anthony returned the favor, gingerly getting into position with his head between Geir's legs, putting on a show for Sören as he sucked Geir's cock. Every now and again he turned his head to look at Sören, watching him losing it, practically sobbing. Anthony turned up the vibrations to the highest setting, and really went at it, sucking Geir with abandon, stroking himself, not able to help it. Geir groaned and growled and swore, and gave a cry when Anthony let go of the cock. Anthony gave it a few teasing licks and began to suck more slowly. Sören panted and whimpered. "Oh god," Sören cried. "Oh god, please, fuck, shit, I need it so bad, please, _please_..."  
  
"Mmmmmmmmmmm." Anthony took Geir's cock out of his mouth to lick it some more. Geir moaned and clutched Anthony's head. Anthony got back to work, sucking slowly, languidly, teasing both Geir and Sören, loving it. Anthony felt himself stroking harder, and made himself stop before he could come too soon.  
  
Geir and Anthony kissed some more, and then they lay on their sides, heads between each other's legs, sucking each other at the same time. Sören howled, and let out a scream through clenched teeth when Anthony slowed down the speed of the vibe, all the way down to its next-lowest setting, then its lowest. Anthony and Geir sucked frenziedly, really getting into it, moaning with their mouths full. When Anthony began to lick at Geir's opening, Sören whined and begged, "Please, oh god, please, fuck me, please, Anthony, please... please, please..."  
  
Geir stopped sucking. "Should we give him what he wants?"  
  
Anthony smiled. "Not just yet."  
  
Geir chuckled and continued sucking, moaning as Anthony lapped him. When Anthony started sucking his cock again, Geir cried out around the cock in his mouth and shuddered. Anthony knew Geir was getting closer too, and as much as Anthony wanted to come, it would be more enjoyable if Sören was involved. Anthony sucked just a minute more and then pulled back and turned off the vibe. "OK," he said, catching his breath, cock aching for relief. "You can untie him."  
  
Instead of untying all those knots, Geir took a pair of scissors and cut away the rope. While Anthony was disappointed to see the beautiful knotwork cut up, he knew it was probably faster this way, and Geir explained he had no shortage of rope. Anthony stopped caring about the wrecked "rope dress" when he looked at Sören's body, where the rope had left red imprints from where it had bound and knotted, and Anthony found the patterns strangely erotic.  
  
"Come here," Anthony said, gesturing.  
  
Sören walked over slowly, shaking. Sören's cock was completely slick with precum, and still dripping. Anthony sighed, cock throbbing. As Sören sat down, he collected a dollop of precum with his index and middle finger, and then he stuck his fingers in Anthony's mouth. Sören looked ready to eat him alive as Anthony sucked Sören's fingers, savoring the taste of him. Anthony growled and shoved Sören on his back, mad with lust.  
  
Anthony climbed over Sören and after a few deep, fiery kisses, Anthony kissed and licked Sören's throat, then began to lick at the red rope burns on Sören's body, making Sören howl and pant and writhe. Geir leaned in to kiss Sören and play with his cock, and Anthony groaned as he watched them kiss. Anthony got rough with Sören's nipples, already deliciously swollen, nibbling on them, tugging with his teeth, pulling on the rings, sucking hard. Sören bucked, and between Geir's kisses Sören begged. "Oh god. Please. Fuck me. Please..."  
  
Anthony pulled the plug out of Sören's ass, and replaced it with his fingers, finding that spot right away, rubbing it as his tongue traced each path of the rope. Sören whimpered, and when Geir started kissing Sören's neck, Sören cried out. "Oh, _fuck_. Please! Please, god, please, I need..."  
  
"Mmmmm, I'm sure you do, naughty thing." Anthony kissed along the seam of Sören's thigh, making him shiver. Anthony's own cock was ragingly hard, wanting to fuck, but he made himself hold back just a little longer, enjoying the delicious evidence of Sören's submission. "You're so beautiful, love."  
  
"Anthony, please." There was a desperate look in Sören's eyes.  
  
Geir laughed and nibbled Sören's shoulder. "Sören, it _is_ Anthony's birthday. Maybe you should ask the birthday boy what he wants, hm?"  
  
"Right, sorry." Sören bit his lower lip, with a look in his eye that said he wasn't, really. Anthony smirked and his fingers walked up to tease a nipple. Sören gasped and then he found his words. "What do you want? How do you want it?"  
  
"God." Anthony chuckled, his mind racing with erotic images of every position his body could handle. He wanted to make Sören scream and paint the ceiling with cum. After thinking for a fevered moment, his finger traced around Sören's nipple and he said, "I want to fuck you." His eyes met Geir's. "I want to watch you suck Sören."  
  
"I can do that," Geir said, with a smile.  
  
Anthony lay on his back, but angled slightly to one side. Instead of Sören straddling and riding him, Sören lay with his back against Anthony's chest and Anthony took him from behind that way, their hips rocking, slapping together. Anthony put an arm around Sören and turned Sören's head to his, kissing him deeply. After watching them for a few minutes, stroking himself, Geir kissed his way down Sören's body, and began to suck Sören's cock. Anthony groaned, slamming into Sören harder as he watched Sören's cock glide in and out of Geir's mouth. Sören pet Geir's hair, his face, moaning between kisses. Anthony's hand roamed over Sören's body, fingers brushing the rope burns, and he kissed Sören's neck. When he kissed the sweet spot where Sören's neck and shoulder met, Sören let out a cry that almost set Anthony off right then. Anthony growled and took a nibble, then kissed there some more, before kissing and licking up Sören's neck and jaw, to claim his mouth again. Geir sucked Sören hard, groaning as he sucked, and Anthony saw Geir's shoulder moving, knowing Geir was touching himself. Geir pulled back to catch his breath, and removed the cock ring at the base of Sören's cock, also freeing Sören's balls. As soon as Sören's cock was in Geir's mouth again, Sören screamed, a shudder going through him. Geir's moans of "mmmmm, mmmmmm", let Anthony know what was happening, and when Sören's seed spilled down Geir's chin, Anthony's own climax hit, shooting into Sören's pulsing channel, gasping and panting at the sweet throbbing pleasure.  
  
Geir rose up on his knees and frantically jerked himself off. A minute later Sören and Anthony were both wearing his seed, and kissed each other again, sharing what was on their lips and tongues. They licked each other's faces clean, and nuzzled.  
  
Anthony hugged Sören tight and Geir curled up on both of them. Sören flexed his fingers and toes and gave a deep sigh. "Fuck," Sören said, and had a gigglefit. Anthony laughed too - he felt so damn _good_.  
  
After cuddling for a little while, the passion rose between them again, Sören and Anthony's tender little kisses lingering, then deepening. Sören and Anthony lay on their sides, kissing and caressing as their cocks rubbed together. Geir took both their cocks in his mouth, sucking slowly, as Sören and Anthony pet his hair between touching each other's faces and bodies. When Anthony started kissing Sören's neck and throat, Sören panted and his nails dug in Anthony's back. "Please," Sören moaned. "Another..."  
  
Geir came up to kiss each of them in turn. Kissing Geir made Anthony crave the best of both worlds. "You want to fuck me as I'm inside him?" Anthony asked Geir.  
  
Geir nodded eagerly, grinning, and then he kissed them each again and rolled behind Anthony.  
  
With one of Sören's legs up on his hip and thigh, Anthony pushed into Sören. A few thrusts later, Geir slid inside him. Anthony moaned as Geir bottomed out in him, and again as Geir began to thrust. The combination of Sören wrapped around him, and Geir's cock stroking that magic place inside him, was exquisite, moreso as their rhythm built, the push and pull of fucking and being fucked. Anthony loved watching Sören lose control, giving into passion, writhing, panting, gasping, moaning louder and louder. He loved kissing Sören as Geir kissed his neck and shoulder. At last all three of them were on that edge, moving as one, crying out together as the pleasure built higher and higher. Anthony leaned in to kiss Sören's nipples, and started playing with Sören's cock. When his mouth met Sören's again Sören's nails scratched down his chest, and the sweet sting almost made him come. Anthony bit Sören's neck with a growl, stroking Sören's cock harder, faster, slamming into him. "I need you to come," he rasped. "Need you to come for me..."  
  
"I'm close." Sören blinked, bit his lip, and shuddered. They kissed again, and when Anthony kissed and licked Sören's throat, Sören came with a wild cry, spurting all over Anthony's chest. Geir bit Anthony's shoulder and Anthony moaned as he came again, the orgasm more intense than the first as his cock and insides both pulsed with delight. A moment later Geir grunted as he came, and Anthony sighed at the feeling of Geir spending in him.  
  
Sören and Geir's arms held him safe, and Anthony drifted off, smiling. When he came back to himself, a cool spot had opened on the bed - Sören had gotten up, presumably to use the bathroom. The toilet flush and sink confirmed it. When Sören walked back in the bedroom Anthony gave a little whine and patted the bed, as if to tell Sören this was where he belonged.  
  
Sören climbed back into bed and kissed the tip of Anthony's nose. "How was that, birthday boy?"  
  
"God." Anthony laughed. "Perfect. Thank you." Geir was laying next to him and he reached over and patted Geir, who gave a sleepy smile. "Both of you."  
  
"That was fun." Sören gave Anthony a kiss, and squeezed Geir's hand. "I really, really liked being tied up like that. I'd like to do it again."  
  
"Me too." Geir opened his eyes. "I've missed having someone to tie up like that."  
  
"We should definitely do it again," Anthony said. "You do beautiful work."  
  
"I had a good teacher." Geir propped himself up on one elbow, his fingers walking up and down Anthony's chest. "So... on that note, I have a question for both of you."  
  
"Oh?" Anthony's curiosity was piqued.  
  
"There's a BDSM event happening in London on the eleventh. A play party. An orgy, technically, but there's a dungeon space for people who want to use it."  
  
Anthony's eyebrows shot up. The idea of Sören tied up in public... fucking him in front of other people... Anthony would be hard again if he wasn't so spent.  
  
Sören smirked. "Where did you get the info from? How did you find out about it? Asking for safety reasons."  
  
"Right," Geir said, nodding - he also knew about Sören's history of partying that ended badly. "I'm on FetLife."  
  
"Fet...Life?" Anthony was confused.  
  
"It's like kinky Facebook," Geir explained. "Bunch of discussion forums and listings for events and whatnot. I've had an account for awhile and was invited to the play party, but I haven't RSVP'd before now because I wanted to bring both of you and wanted to make sure it was something you both were into."  
  
"That could be fun," Anthony said, nodding. "I haven't been to a play party in years."  
  
"You... oh right, you mentioned you did BDSM stuff when you toured Europe," Sören said.  
  
"Yes. I've been to a few events."  
  
"And that was how you discovered you had a taste for domination?" Sören cocked his head to one side.  
  
"Yes and no." Anthony closed his eyes for a minute, not wanting to relive the painful memory all these years later, but it felt time to talk about it. "Before I went off to Europe for a bit, when I was at Cambridge I had... a friend with benefits. Mark."  
  
"The harp guy?" Geir seemed to remember the harp recording Nicholas had played, what seemed like so long ago now.  
  
Anthony nodded. "Mark was a bit older than me, and was my first. One day he talked about feeling restless, having wanderlust, and I joked I was going to have to tie him up and he encouraged me to make that... not a joke." Anthony gave a nervous laugh, then cringed at the memory - the experience itself had been very enjoyable, beautiful even, but Mark had broken his heart. "Mark is the reason why I ended up going to Europe. I got too attached to him, and he decided it was a bad idea for us to continue our arrangement, and... I couldn't deal with it, especially a year after I'd lost my uncle. So I just... took off. Saw the world. My uncle had encouraged me to see Europe, and Mark and I had taken a holiday together, so I finished what he started."  
  
"Wow." Sören kissed Anthony's cheek. "I'm sorry you got hurt."  
  
Anthony nodded. "I hesitate calling him my first love because I was only nineteen and didn't know a fucking thing about life, but..."  
  
"But he was your first love." Sören gave a sympathetic frown and nuzzled him. "It's OK."  
  
"Anyway..." Anthony sighed, trying not to think about Mark, which still stung all these years later. "That was almost twenty years ago, and I have you." Anthony gave Sören a kiss. "He may have been my first love, but you're the one." The words came out before he could stop himself, but it was true. He loved Nicholas too, but his feelings for Sören were intense, overwhelming.  
  
"Ohhhhh, _elskan._ " Sören kissed him. "I love you."  
  
"You guys are so cute." Geir touched both their faces. "I hope you guys are together for a long, long time. Grow old together."  
  
"Me too," Sören said softly.  
  
Anthony's eyes filled. He didn't want to break down crying after such a wonderful evening. He decided to get back on subject with the BDSM party. "So... just to clarify... when you say orgy -"  
  
"I did actually ask about this, because I figured you'd have concerns." Geir nodded. "I talked to the organizer and she said that there's a bracelet system. People will be given bracelets at the door and the colors indicate whether or not they're free to play with others. In full disclosure, this is a bisexual event, people of all genders will be there, so the bracelets for getting it on with whoever are also color-coded per whether or not one prefers men, women, or has no preference..."  
  
"OK." Anthony nodded. "So long as there's a way to indicate I'm not interested in people who aren't my plus-ones." While he had been a bit more promiscuous in his younger years, he not only didn't want to potentially open up a can of worms with Sören regarding their past history, but he also really wanted to focus on Sören at that event, feeling like them enacting dominant and submissive roles in public would strengthen their bond.  
  
"I might play with other people, I might not," Geir said, "if that's OK."  
  
"That's OK," Sören said, and Anthony nodded.  
  
"But what I really want to do at the event is..." Geir took a deep breath and cupped Sören's chin in his hand. "So you liked the Shibari tying?"  
  
"Very much." Sören grinned.  
  
"OK. I want to take it a step further. Do you know what suspension is?"  
  
Anthony did. "Where he's hanging by some rope?"  
  
"Ja." Geir looked back at Sören.  
  
"Oh!" Sören blinked with surprise. He bit his lip, and Anthony could practically see the gears turning in Sören's head as he considered. After a moment Sören said, "I'll try it."  
  
"Good. I can't guarantee you'll like it," Geir said, "but -"  
  
"If I thought I'd completely hate it I'd tell you rather than going along," Sören said. "Um..." He wrinkled his nose. "Dress code? Please tell me I don't have to wear a fucking suit."  
  
Geir's laughter rang out and he patted Sören's head. "You... won't have to wear much of anything. Before the event starts you and I can take a trip to Liberation and pick out something interesting."  
  
"Ooooh!"  
  
Anthony snickered - Sören still hated wearing suits, even now. That Sören was still very much the same after all these years was comforting, and he gave Sören another kiss. "I love you, you know."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
Anthony snuggled against Sören. He was looking forward to the party. He was also looking forward to what might come of it later, feeling like he and Sören had crossed a new threshold in their relationship.  
  
  
_  
  
  
As much as he really didn't want to deal with Lawrence and potential awkwardness, he was going to make himself do it and get it done and over with, and Anthony was still coasting on enough of an endorphin rush from last night's kinky birthday fun that he didn't have the panic attack as he got ready that he feared he might.  
  
Sören also looked mellow, which was good - he'd been afraid of Sören walking into the brunch with his "war face" and bothering Diana regardless of whether or not he was rude to Lawrence.  
  
Diana and Lawrence were already sitting at a table by the window when they arrived. Lawrence was still as bald as ever, and wearing an old-fashioned grey cabbie hat on this chilly day. It was raining again, and Anthony paused a moment to watch the seagulls hunting for worms in the rain before he continued the rest of the slow journey to the table, limping along on his cane. Lawrence rose from the table when he saw Anthony and Sören approaching, and put out his hand. "Anthony, Sören. It's good to see you again."  
  
Sören gave a half-hearted "fuck you" sort of shake, while Anthony's was exactly the same as what he gave his clients or colleagues. "Hello, Lawrence." Anthony wasn't going to repeat the "it's good to see you again" statement, since it wasn't entirely true. He and Sören sat down, and Diana passed them menus.  
  
"May I recommend any of their omelettes," Lawrence said as they opened their menu, "and they make very good egg and sausage sandwiches."  
  
"How's the full breakfast?" Anthony asked, glancing at the menu.  
  
"Not bad," Diana said. "Greasy."  
  
"All right, I'll have that."  
  
Sören snorted. "Beans on toast?"  
  
"...Yes." Anthony affectionately rolled his eyes and tousled Sören's curls. "You've been here how many years now and you're still horrified by beans on toast?"  
  
"Don't your people eat rotten shark?" Lawrence gave Sören an amused look. "How are you complaining about beans on toast?"  
  
" _I_ don't eat rotten shark." Sören couldn't resist, giving Anthony a leer. "Just regular shark." Then his face got serious, and Anthony braced himself - Sören had promised to behave, but his concept of "behave" was probably a bit different than what Anthony intended. "I'm sure Trisha and Vincente have told you all about how gross Icelandic food is."  
  
"Actually..." Lawrence put down his menu, took a sip of coffee, and then leaned back in his chair. He exhaled, rubbed his face, and looked at Anthony.  
  
 _Oh shit, here we go._ Anthony wanted to bolt. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. He glanced over at Sören, trying to communicate _did you have to bloody go there_ with his eyes - he wasn't thrilled with how Trisha and Vincente had treated him either, but he was hoping not to turn this brunch into a disaster.  
  
Lawrence looked in Anthony's eyes. "I've not spoken to either of them in about a year."  
  
"What." Anthony blinked slowly - he wasn't expecting _that_ response.  
  
"Yeah." Lawrence gave a bitter chuckle as he had more coffee. "Or the others. Jack decided to do blackface at a Halloween party and Trisha thought it was hilarious. She called him the n-word and everything. Someone e-mailed a video to me to show me what they're really like. They didn't have the bollocks to do this with me present, you see, but I realized this was how they felt the entire time. They just used their association with me to give the illusion they're not completely bigoted twats."  
  
"Jesus _Christ._ " Anthony felt sick. "I'm... I'm so sorry."  
  
"I'm sorry too." Lawrence scowled. "I mean it. About everything. I should have pressed harder for them to knock it off when they were giving Sören a hard time. I... should have returned your calls, after the accident. I was a bloody coward, knowing they were arseholes, but I felt like I needed _some_ allies in the legal community -"  
  
"Right, I get that." As someone who had come of age when homophobia was still rampant, Anthony's own experience was somewhat similar. He'd been willing to accept their friendship, flaws and all, because they were the first friends he'd had, after Mark. He didn't know they were that bad, but somehow he wasn't surprised.  
  
"And I didn't ring after I fell out with our old crowd because... I thought you'd be pissed at me. Diana tried to encourage me to call you, but..."  
  
"I get that, too." Anthony nodded. "To be honest, she was probably right, I don't know that I would have been very receptive if you'd suddenly rang me out of the blue."  
  
"I fucked up." Lawrence's eyes were sad. "I'm sorry -"  
  
"You... don't need to keep apologizing." Anthony felt for him, any anger and hostility towards Lawrence now directed at their former friends for being disgusting racists. "We all make mistakes. Like you said, you felt you needed allies. I've been there too. We live and learn."  
  
Sören nodded. "They're garbage. But I can't even say I'm glad you figured it out, because what a way to find out."  
  
"Yeah." Lawrence sighed. "It hurt, a lot. It still does, they were such a big part of my life for years." Their eyes met again. "That included you, once upon a time."  
  
Anthony raised an eyebrow. He had a feeling where this was going.  
  
"I'll understand if you... say no. I will. Truly. Like I said, I was in the wrong for ghosting you after the accident, I was in the wrong for not having your back when I saw them being twats to Sören. But... if you'd like to start over and be friends again..."  
  
Anthony got up. Diana gave him a concerned look, as if she was expecting Anthony to leave, but he held out an arm. Lawrence got up and gave Anthony a hug.


End file.
